


I’d Never Forget (Your Love)

by BeautyButterBae



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic, Fluff and Angst, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Makkachin is precious, Married Couple, Memory Loss, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-09-15 16:05:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9243260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautyButterBae/pseuds/BeautyButterBae
Summary: As Yuuri and Victor practice a new ice dancing routine for next season’s exhibition, an accident causes Yuuri to fall head-first on the ice, resulting in a strange case of amnesia.Yuuri wakes up every morning with his mind wiped clean of all of his memories of Victor.Victor refuses to be forgotten by his husband.(Aka what will Victor experience first: the pain of waking up next to the man who doesn’t remember ever loving him becoming unbearable, or finding a solution that helps them return to the happy life they used to share?)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is vaguely inspired by the premise of the movie Fifty First Dates, because this idea came to me one night and I just couldn’t shake it off until I got it down on digital paper. Please forgive any inaccuracies (or downright mistakes) in the descriptions of either figure skating or medical science, because as much research as I tried to do on the former, I’m not sure how well I can describe it, and the latter had to be bent for the plot of the story.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

"Woah, careful there." Victor gasps with a smile when Yuuri's skate slips as he attempts a forward moving arabesque, his hand latched onto Victor's bicep. Before the younger skater can as much as touch the ice with parts of his body that aren't his feet, Victor steadies him by tugging at his hand and scoops him up in his arms, their chests pressed together.

"I'm fine." Yuuri chuckles, resting his hands on Victor's hips and pulling away enough to gaze at the man's features. "You worry too much."

"It's my job as your doting husband." Victor shrugs with a smirk and leans in closer. Yuuri doesn't miss a beat in closing his eyes and resting his forehead against Victor's. "Ice dancing is different from men's singles, after all."

"I know it is." Yuuri insists, but it's soft and free of irritation. "But we've done just fine at the Grand Prix Final's exhibition. And I'm sure that we'll be amazing next time as well. But first I think we should, you know… stop looking for opportunities to make out and instead focus on practice."

"So you've seen through my intentions, huh?" Victor laughs quietly, his arm around Yuuri's waist.

"You're a wide-open book, Victor." Yuuri grins in response before pressing a lingering kiss to his husband's lips. "Though I don't exactly hate it."

Victor only smiles and brings their foreheads together once more, feeling the side of Yuuri's cool nose against his own. "I love you, too."

Victor can't see it but he can virtually feel Yuuri's pleased smile within his warm exhale against his cheek. It only takes a brief moment before he pulls him in for another kiss, this time long and slow.

They usually tend to keep their PDA down to hugs and nuzzles, since even that much grants them exasperated groans from Yurio whenever he catches sight of their unhidden expressions of love. But now that it's mid-April and all of the other skaters of the St. Petersburg ice rink have returned home for the quickly approaching Easter celebrations, neither Victor nor Yuuri hold back in showering the other with affection. Not being particularly religious, they both agreed to spend the holidays choreographing and practicing their next pair skate for the exhibition of the upcoming season. They _do_ still have five months or so till then, but they decided to start early, taking into consideration the fact that soon enough they would be getting busy with their short and free programs and the exhibition piece would inevitably take the backseat.

The previous year they skated to a piece which depicted their meeting and finding the desire to stay with each other with striking accuracy, and this year… This year Victor commissioned yet another pair of opera singers to poetically describe the developments in their relationship – from the beginning all the way to their marriage (which would be the culmination of their performance).

They had a January wedding. It wasn't the beautiful ceremony by the seaside they originally dreamed of, but after one quick conversation they both realized that they didn't have the patience to wait till summer. After Yuuri scored gold in December's Japan Figure Skating Championships, he immediately used it to propose to Victor once more. The latter only laughed, saying he never meant the 'we'll get married once you win a gold medal' line seriously, but quickly followed it up with an enthusiastic agreement to the proposal, offering his own gold medal from the Russian Championships in exchange. With their engagement rings and medals exchanged, the middle of January was the closest available date for a civil marriage, which they took without hesitation.

It took place in Saga's register office, which admittedly wasn't the most _romantic_ location, but it was good enough for their purposes. Yuuri's entire family, his friends, their children, Phichit and Minako-sensei all attended the ceremony and Victor ever managed to convince Yakov to fly over to Japan to celebrate with them (a choice he later admitted wasn't well thought through, considering that Yakov himself was divorced). Romantic or not, all attendees cried when the two figure skaters received their marriage certificates. The wedding reception was held in Yuutopia Hot Springs, where Chris and his boyfriend already waited for the newlyweds, apologizing for not making it to the actual ceremony due to a delay in their flight. The dinner was calm, but filled with laughter and embarrassment, most notably of the freshly married figure skaters, but not only, as Victor found it only fair to share a few stories about Chris in revenge for his speech during his toast. The celebration might have been humble but the night ended leaving all the guests satisfied and in good spirits. Most of all, Victor and Yuuri were happy, now proud husbands, overjoyed with their union to the point of disbelief that it was actually true. When it finally sunk in, their joy was beyond words.

They moved to St. Petersburg soon after their marriage. They didn't get to enjoy a relaxing honeymoon reserved for just the two of them and their intimacy, as the European Championships drew close and Victor still had elements of his performance he wanted to polish to perfection. Their honeymoon was spent on the ice rink, if it could even be described as such. But Yuuri didn't mind – he knew the schedule for the season very well and was more than aware of their priorities. He cheered for his husband louder than his entire fan club and he took some pride in thinking that this helped him win gold and thus qualify for the Worlds.

Then came more practice for Yuuri before the Four Continents Championships, which paid off, having yet another gold around his neck to prove it. Almost as soon as the two finished celebrating, they were back on the rink, putting all the remaining days into making sure their performances were flawless beyond human capabilities. And then, the Worlds came. It was a close call but Victor took gold, becoming the sixth time World Champion. Yuuri, having won silver, was disappointed with himself for longer than either of them anticipated (even though he was the one to say "No matter who wins, I still love you" before the competition even began) but once he finally picked himself up, they were as good as after the Grand Prix Final, promising to do their best in the next season all over again.

It's April now – the beginning of the off-season. The two got so used to spending most of their days on the ice to the point where going to the rink became part of their daily routine and a habit they couldn't quite kick. So they stopped trying to fight it and embraced it instead.

'Embraced' in a sense only partially different to the embrace they stand in now, taking a break from their ice dancing and enjoying their closeness, free from scrutiny of Yakov or the other skaters. They agreed that they will take some quality time off soon, perhaps spend an actual honeymoon somewhere far away from the ice, but for the moment they choose to keep going on the momentum leftover from the World Championships.

And they get to be close anyway. Especially now, with everyone gone, there are virtually no downsides to this set-up. They both think this to some degree.

"Maybe you should do that move instead?" Yuuri suggests once they finally increase the distance between them to more than a few centimeters. "I feel like you could pull it off better."

"Well, let's see." Victor lets his eyes wander around the rink in thought as he gently gets a hold of Yuuri's palms "Hold my waist and arm, alright?"

Yuuri complies, watching his husband carefully as they skate forward to gain some momentum before Victor performs the move flawlessly. Which is the same word Yuuri would use to describe 90% of Victor doing anything on ice, the 10% being the times where they learn new elements for their ice dance. He believes that the only reason Victor isn't perfect then is because he's literally never had anything to do with skating in pairs, and even then he thinks Victor does exceptionally well for someone who's only ever performed in singles. Victor always argues that he could say the same thing about Yuuri, but Yuuri still prefers to shrug it off as either luck of 'Victor's influence' rather than his own ever-evolving skills. Victor makes sure to give him the praise he deserves regardless of his excuses.

"Yeah, I think you should do the move instead." Yuuri insists once they come to a stop.

"I'm sure you could do it too, though." Victor argues. "With a little practice, it would look great."

"Well, maybe…" Yuuri admits, then shakes his head. "But no, I think this would fit you more after all. We can find something else for me."

"We'll _need_ to find something else for you." Victor frowns briefly. "Or it'll throw the entire performance off balance."

Balance has been the one thing they made sure to keep while choreographing their exhibition program, and not simply in the obvious sense either. They always focused on presenting their relationship as balanced, equal. No strictly defined male and female roles – constantly switching between gender-typical moves instead. They were not a man and a woman after all and they would flaunt that fact during the exhibition as hard as it was possible. They were already defying the rules by skating together as a same-sex pair, even if they didn't compete. They would take it as far as it was necessary to drive the message that same-sex pairs could be equal in skill and performance to their heterosexual counterparts home. But of course political statements aren't their main intention – love is. And regardless of their personalities, their relationship is certainly _balanced._

Yuuri is just as eager as Victor to present their relationship accurately. He just isn't all that familiar with choreographing programs yet. Even with his extensive research, he finds deciding which one of them should perform which elements difficult. He's more than a little glad that they still have plenty of time to choose and that Victor at least seems to know what they are doing.

"I know, I know." Yuuri sighs, nodding slowly and closing his eyes in thought. Suddenly, an idea runs through his body like a spark and he immediately straightens his back, closes his fists and turns to Victor with a grin and bright eyes. "What if we-"

His words stop as quickly as they originally appeared as Yuuri closes his mouth and shakes his head with an all but embarrassed smile. "No, that's a stupid idea."

This piques Victor's curiosity. His eyebrows twitch in interest, as he assures: "There are no stupid ideas, Yuuri. I mean, there _are_ but you're not the type of person to ever suggest anything stupid so go ahead." He grins in turn. "Tell me."

"I mean… I was just thinking that maybe we could try a… throw jump?" Yuuri explains slowly with a light blush and a grimace – a testament to how silly he feels actually pronouncing the words out loud.

"That's not part of ice dancing, as far as I'm aware." Victor speaks firmly and knits his brows and Yuuri knows that he doesn't fancy the idea.

"I know it's not; it's pair skating. But as far as I can tell, it shouldn't be _that_ difficult." Yuuri makes an attempt at defending himself, trying to find words to justify his suggestion. "I'm not saying we should do a throw quad flip. We could just try a… single toe loop, let's say. I mean, don't you think it would be interesting to have something like that in our performance? Everyone would be floored that we're going beyond ice dancing. Of course, we don't have to, it's just a random though after all-"

"Yuuri, relax. I'm not saying 'no'." Victor places his palm on Yuuri's cheek, stopping his partner from his occasional rambling under pressure. "Slowly now: who would do the jump? Explain the details for me."

Yuuri takes a deep breath and continues, gazing into his husband's warm blue eyes. "I guess I would? You're taller, so it would be easier for you to throw me, even if I'm stronger."

Just like with the lifts in their last ice dance, Yuuri would be the liftee rather than the lifter due to his height, rather than their physical abilities. He did try to lift Victor before and he more or less succeeded, but it was far from graceful, his husband's height forcing him to raise his arms higher, thus causing him more strain than necessary, resulting in sloppy execution. And Yuuri didn't mind being lifted, there was certainly something reassuring in being steadily held in the air by the love of his life, and there was _much_ less stress involved, since he didn't have to worry about dropping Victor or just giving a lousy performance overall. He was happy to note that during the actual performance, the only thing he could think of was how much he loved his then fiancé and got entirely lost in the music and Victor's touch, all but completely forgetting that they were being watched by thousands of people around the world who followed the live broadcast. Yuuri liked to think that Victor's presence made the exhibition breath-taking in more ways than one.

"Then for the actual jump," Yuuri explains. "All I do is get into the position for a toe loop, and push myself off my pick like I would normally. What you do is skate behind me, lift me by the hips and add to the height of the jump. The rotation and the landing are the same as always."

"It does sound easy enough." Victor shrugs, his arms crossed on his chest - enough of a message for Yuuri to understand what will come next. "But I think it'd be dangerous for amateurs like the two of us. We've literally _never_ done this, Yuuri, and this time there's _throwing_ involved. I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"Yeah, I can understand your reservations." Yuuri admits with a light frown. "I know that I'm inconsistent with my jumps and I'm putting myself at a risk, but-"

"It's not about your jumps, Yuuri." Victor attempts a smile, but it doesn't help Yuuri much, considering that his voice is laced with concern. "I just don't think we'll have enough time to perfect an entirely new element, especially that soon we'll have our own short and free programs to work on."

"But we could at least try? Just once?" Yuuri insists. "If it goes really badly then we'll never do it again and stick to ice dancing, but I'd like to at least give it a shot."

Victor winces and looks at the far wall of the empty ice rink with his index finger pressed to his lips, thinking.

Yuuri can't stand the tension in the air and finally adds. "I won't pressure you into it though. You're the coach here after all and if you think that it's not a good idea then I'll understand and we'll just return to coming up with the usual choreography."

"We _could_ try." Victor finally nods, his tone more relaxed. "It's just a single toe loop, right? You've always landed quad toes in competition, didn't you? Then there's probably no harm in trying."

"Really?" Yuuri asks hesitantly, his eyes gleaming with hope, betraying his excitement.

"Yeah." Victor smiles warmly. "Just once. Run me through what I have to do again."

"Alright." Yuuri raises the corners of his lips in agreement. He reaches for Victor's hands, places them loosely on his hips and turns around, his back resting against his torso.

"I like this already." Victor hums, leaning over his shoulder.

"Victor." Yuuri chuckles, all but shaking his head before turning it and pressing a kiss to Victor's cheek. Yuuri concludes that at this rate, the explanation will certainly take longer than usual. He doesn't hate it one bit.

* * *

When Yuuri finally gets him to understand the intricacies of throw jumps, Victor has the distinct feeling that his husband also has coach potential. He mentally notes how they could spend the rest of their lives once they choose to retire from competitive figure skating.

Now that he understands his role in the throw jump, they do a few dry runs including only the lift to make sure that Victor has an idea of how to do it properly.

"Think we're ready?" Yuuri wonders out loud.

"Yeah, let's give it a go." Victor smiles.

"Alright." Yuuri replies with the same and brings their foreheads together, momentarily closing his eyes. "I trust you."

"Glad to hear it." Victor whispers, pressing a kiss to the side of his husband's nose. He certainly values trust in their relationship. "Then, shall we?"

"Yeah." Yuuri holds Victor's hands and skates a little distance away, preparing for the run up. Suddenly, he stills, his gaze fixed on the empty space in front of him. "Wait."

"What's wrong?" Victor wrinkles his forehead.

"No, I just thought…" Yuuri lets go of his hands. "Maybe let's record it so that we can later examine what we did well and what wasn't so great?"

Victor agrees, noting that it is indeed a good idea and wondering how he didn't come up with it himself. He watches Yuuri skate to the exist, then leave the rink entirely. Yuuri picks up his phone, taps the screen a few times and finally sets it on the barrier, eternally amazed at how it is just the right thickness to keep his humble film equipment standing.

"Smile!" he calls across the rink as he begins the recording. Victor doesn't need to be told twice, even striking a pose as he waits for Yuuri to return to his side.

"Okay, let's do this." Yuuri leaves a brief kiss on Victor's lips and smiles before they begin to skate forward, gaining momentum necessary for the jump.

Everything is going perfectly fine as they take a turn by the barrier and begin skating backward with enough speed for the jump. Finally, Yuuri offers his cue. "Now!"

Victor makes sure to get into position just like they discussed, and presses his hands to his hips the moment he hears Yuuri's pick stab the ice and feels him rise in his arms.

Somehow, nothing goes right.

And it's really the one thing Victor felt so confident about that he didn't even bother thinking about it.

He lifted Yuuri properly and pushed him up into the air, all according to plan.

He never thought it would be _their legs clashing_ mid-lift that would undo everything.

Victor skates forward, but before he can do anything, he's already watching the nightmare unfold in front of his eyes.

Victor feels like it's all in stop motion, but it's still too fast, too quick for him to react, to do something, to do _anything._

The clash with Victor's leg causes Yuuri to go from the normal vertical position to horizontal with the ice. He immediately aborts the jump, attempts to save himself, arms flailing, legs searching for solid ground.

But it's not even two seconds. It's too little time, not nearly enough to find a way to land safely.

Victor watches as his husband hits the ice head first, body immediately falling limp, sliding backward, lifeless, moving only on its own inertia.

Victor can't move.

Yuuri is simply not moving, eyes open, as though watching the ceiling, lips parted as though wanting to speak.

Victor can't move.

Yuuri is not moving. Not trying to stand up, not groaning in pain, not sitting up and wincing at the weak attempt.

Victor can't move.

Yuuri is not moving.

Victor shakes his head, clenching his jaw, dreading the worst.

The first breath that leaves him is a piercing scream. " _Yuuri!_ "

And the only thing faster than his skates on the ice as he closes the distance between them and falls to his knees is his heart, beating hard and quick against his ribcage, each pump of blood a deafening ' _ **NO**_ '.

"Yuuri…" Victor whispers on a shaky exhale, cupping his cheeks, seeing him blur right in front of him as tears fill his eyes. "Yuuri."

He repeats his name multiple times, a pacemaker between his uneven sobs, his eyes shut tight, his hands shaking. He leans over Yuuri's motionless face helplessly, the roaring pain in his chest pulling him close, forcing their foreheads together softly, too softly as Victor feels the need to scream again, scream into eternity.

And then he feels it. The faintest, shyest breath on his cheek. He freezes immediately, wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and watches Yuuri's features. His eyes are open in that not-seeing way, empty, his lips are open, but unmoving. But he's breathing. Victor brings his cheek close to his mouth and becomes certain _– he's breathing._

"Oh, God." Victor allows himself one last sob, followed by a whisper. "Thank you."

"Okay, Yuuri." He closes his husbands eyes gently, the pounding in his chest still painful, but resounding with something new now – hope. "It'll be okay."

He knows Yuuri can't hear him. It somehow helps anyway.

Victor tries to calm himself, attempts to breathe evenly, and fails. But he focuses, does his best to clear his mind and think rationally.

He places his fingers on Yuuri's throat and moves them until he feels his pulse – the one sure proof of life still beating within him. It's somehow faint, quiet, especially compared to the thump in Victor's ears, but it's certainly there, right under his fingertips. He's _alive_. That one thing is confirmed. Victor allows himself a breath of relief and attempts to think of what should come next.

He immediately lets Yuuri go, remembering how dangerous it could be to touch or move anyone with head trauma. He finally forces his eyes to the ice beneath Yuuri's head, the one spot he ignored the entire time. It's clean, pristine, white as ever. There is no blood. "Okay." He breathes. "We'll be okay."

Leaning over Yuuri, he realizes that there is nothing he can do to help him, not personally, at the very least. The sense of loss and helplessness is larger than anything Victor had ever felt. Emotions well up within him – anger, fear, more tears, but he knows they're useless now. They won't help him with anything _now._

So Victor swallows his tears, gets to his feet, skates over to the exit – to Yuuri's phone. He calls the ambulance, all but falls apart as they ask him to describe the situation, but manages to keep himself whole and then waits.

He sits on the ice, holds Yuuri's unnaturally cool hand and waits.

Victor was never religious.

For the first time in his life, he prays.

* * *

When they arrive at the hospital, all Victor can do is wait.

His hands clasped over his face, his elbows digging into his thighs, he sits in the waiting area.

_Five minutes._

He prays. He tries his hardest to pray, but it stopped helping him a good half hour earlier. He's tired of hearing his pitiable begging echoing in his head. He just wants to know that Yuuri will be fine. _Please._ He doesn't know who he's asking.

_Fifteen minutes._

He blames Yuuri. If he wouldn't have asked, none of this would be happening. They'd be back at the ice rink, putting together another stunning performance, hugging, kissing- The thought of holding Yuuri close and feeling his warmth brings the promise of tears to Victor's eyes. He breathes, trying to blame Yuuri, failing-

_Thirty minutes._

He blames himself. It was Victor who agreed to everything after all, who didn't think how badly everything could go. It was his leg that got in Yuuri's way, threw him of balance, caused him to fall so _quickly_ , so hard. Victor could have equally kicked him in the head and the blame would be the same. It's his own fault, _his own_. He _hopes_ that Yuuri is fine, but he knows that no one who is _fine_ needs to be taken to a hospital by an ambulance. And if there's something wrong with Yuuri, something permanently damaged… He won't ever forgive himself. No matter the hope he may hold, the thought lingers in his mind, that something is wrong, very wrong. What is taking them so long? He feels he should have an update by now, he should know _something._ He remains in the dark. It's darker than the passing nurses could ever imagine.

_An hour._

Victor blames the universe, fate, whatever it may be that caused this. Because it didn't _have_ to happen, it doesn't have to be _their_ fault. It was bad luck, something, _anything_ , but their mistake. Was Yuuri wrong to ask him to try a new move? Was Victor wrong for saying yes? Of course not. Then it must have been the bad will of the world, turning against them now, at a vulnerable time. Victor curses whatever he could think of – the skates, the ice, something, _anything_ that will help him get the rage out of his system.

He paces the tiled floor now, tired of sitting, tired of standing, tired of being apart from Yuuri, only wanting to see him, only wanting to hear something, _anything_ about his husband's condition. It's been over an hour; what is taking them so long? They should know what's wrong with him now, in which case, they should come and report their findings. They know Victor is the spouse, they've performed a thorough interview in the ambulance. But none of the passing nurses know anything about Yuuri and Victor can only thank them for their time with a sigh and without enthusiasm.

Then finally, _finally_ Victor spots the doctor who had taken Yuuri in when they arrived in the ambulance and runs to him, his footsteps echoing clear and loud in the large corridor.

"What is Yuuri's condition? How is he doing?" Victor asks the balding, middle-aged man in glasses immediately.

When the doctor gives him a once-over with a doubting gaze, and Victor immediately raises his right hand with the most formal proof of their relationship he has on him now. "Spouse. Victor Nikiforov. Please, I need to know."

The man seems to remember Victor and his eyes relax, his expression remaining rigid, uninterested regardless. "There is good news." He announces in a monotone voice that is all too slow for Victor's urgency. "He is not in a coma."

_Thank God._

"There is also no damage to his spinal cord and apart from his head, he had sustained no injury." The man continues.

_Thank God._

"And there is no major damage to the brain." He concludes.

 _Thank_ … wait.

A certain word catches Victor's attention, preventing the breath of relief from rising from his lungs.

" _Major?_ So there is minor damage? What sort of damage? How will it affect him?" He attacks the doctor with questions as weapons.

"We aren't entirely certain yet. The scans don't suggest anything dangerous or life-altering but we will only be able to examine the extent of the damage once he wakes up." The man explains, slowly, calmly. _Too_ slowly, _too_ calmly for Victor's taste. "We have just administered drugs that will wake him up. If you-"

"Can I see him?" Victor desperately asks the one question that sat on the tip of his tongue for the past hour. "Can I be there when he wakes up? Can I take part in the examination?"

"I was just about to say that it would be better for him to see a familiar face. And you, Mr. Nikiforov, will most likely be able to tell first if he is acting unusually." The man insists, his monotone voice almost irritated, or perhaps that is only the impression Victor gets from his tired expression. "Please, follow me."

Victor does so without hesitation, remaining half a step in front of the doctor despite not knowing where they are heading. When the man finally stops before one of the doors and presses its handle, Victor is the first person in the room. It contains three beds, but only one of them is occupied. He rushes over, pulls up a chair and sits as close to Yuuri as it is physically possible.

His husband is not yet awake, but no longer unconscious, now looking the way he usually does in his sleep. Victor can't control himself. He holds Yuuri's palm and lifts it to his cheek. It's warm now; alive, and okay. Tears gather in his eyes as he watches Yuuri breathe in his usual rhythm with his usual strength. "Yuuri."

And slowly, Yuuri wakes, his features coming to life in a growing wince, his eyelids finally fluttering open. His brown eyes, so lifeless before, appear tired and dull, but alive, _alive_ and well. Victor gasps when he looks at him, relief flooding his body.

"Where am I?" he asks, understandably confused.

"Hospital, St. Petersburg." Victor offers him the basic information before posing a question of his own. "How do you feel?"

"My head hurts." Yuuri admits, squinting his eyes in pain. "What happened?"

"You… had an accident." Victor finds it difficult to pronounce out loud, unable to offer him any details. "What's your name?"

Yuuri knits his brows, more in surprise than anything. "Yuuri Katsuki." His mind catches up with the intentions behind the question. "My parents run a hot springs resort called Yuutopia Katsuki. My sister's name is Mari. Hometown: Hasetsu, Kyushu, Japan."

"How old are you?" Victor asks anyway, wanting to be more than sure that Yuuri still knows all the basics about himself.

"Twenty-four. Will turn twenty-five in November this year." He replies with a few blinks.

Victor nods and takes a breath of relief.

"He knows who he is. That's good, isn't it?" Victor turns to the doctor who until now watched their exchange in silence. The man nods and takes notes on the clipboard he had brought along. He urges Victor on. "Please, feel free to continue."

Victor doesn't know what other questions to ask so he only smiles, stroking down Yuuri's hand with his thumb. "I'm so glad you're okay, Yuuri."

"So am I, I suppose." Yuuri laughs nervously, his gaze falling to his lap. "And you are? My interpreter…?"

Victor blinks, smiles in disbelief, shakes his head. "Not funny, Yuuri. It's not time for such jokes. You don't even know how worried I was."

"I'm sorry." Yuuri apologizes, but it's somehow different to how he usually says it, more stiff, forced. "But I really don't recognize you. Have we met before?"

Victor actually laughs – a short, strained laugh. Yuuri can't be serious. "Victor Nikiforov? Six time world champion of figure skating?" He suggests.

"Oh." Yuuri spares him a longer glance before bringing his eyes back to his lap. "I feel quite embarrassed for not knowing someone from our sport with such great achievements. It's really weird, actually. I should have at least heard of you…"

Yuuri rambles, now lost, not doubting Victor's words, simply confused at how he doesn't seem to know someone who must be so famous. But that is not Victor's concern. Before he can voice it, Yuuri speaks again. "And… may I ask why the six time champion is visiting me in the hospital after an accident?"

Yuuri glances around the room, hoping to find someone else that could answer his question.

Victor shakes his head, lips parted, eyes wide open.

_You know the answer._

"Because I'm your husband?" he offers him the fact that should be obvious with a breaking voice, raising his right hand so that Yuuri can clearly see the gold ring.

Yuuri gapes at it for a moment, then turns his eyes away with a sad smile. "I'm sorry, I think you're confusing me for someone else, Mr. Nikiforov. I don't recall ever being married."

In a single sentence, Victor's world is shattered.

An unforgettable banquet, a hot springs resort, a strict training regimen, the Grand Prix Series, the Final, their ice dance, the Nationals, their apartment in St. Petersburg, the Worlds, the long hours on the ice rink, tens upon tens of kisses, hundreds of hugs, thousands of tender touches and gentle words and _love_ , two gold rings, a silver medal, two gold medals, a marriage certificate, a wedding, a happy life together…

All undone by one bad throw.

An entire year, gone in a matter of _seconds_.

There have to be limits to unfairness, Victor thinks bitterly.

"Come on, Yuuri. You remember me, don't you?" he attempts with a smile, despite the tears pooling in his eyes. "I was your coach last season. You remember me, right?"

Victor squeezes his hand, hoping to make him remember _somehow_ and Yuuri only pulls his hand away in fear.

Victor doesn't try to catch it.

His heart breaks.

"Celestino was my coach. I'm really sorry, I really think you've got the wrong person." He doesn't even look at Victor as he speaks, scooting further away from him on the mattress.

In one moment in his arms, in another falling out of his reach, never to be touched again.

It hurts too much, even for Victor's standards.

Stranger, idol, coach, friend, more-than-friend, lover, fiancé, husband, _stranger._

_Stranger._

_Stranger._

Victor doesn't even try to contain his tears.

Yuuri who admired him since he was twelve years old, fell in love with him when he was twenty-three, married him at twenty-four now acts like they've never as much as spoken.

There must be a limit to the world's cruelty.

"I love you, Yuuri." Victor pronounces quietly – his last, desperate attempt at making Yuuri remember - and watches the horror unfold before his eyes: Yuuri shaking his head, turning his face away, wincing in disgust.

Victor wishes he could hit his head and forget everything, too.

It would be better than this.

So much better than _this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems like just the introduction to the story took me like 5k words… Did I mention yet that I’m quite long-winded? Hope you guys don’t mind. :’)
> 
> Allow me to dedicate these notes to my general thoughts regarding the fic. A funny thing is that before the last episode of YOI aired I told myself that I wouldn’t write any more YOI fics, since I’m working on like two other stories for two other fandoms at the same time and just juggling the two of them around is getting difficult. But theeeen I got this idea and I thought ‘screw it’, let’s just write it because goddamn, I love YOI, I love the fandom, I love Victor and Yuuri and I think I’ll die if I won’t write something for them at least once a month. So here I am, with an angsty multi-chapter slow-burn because you gotta vary it up sometimes. (Don’t worry though, it won’t be all angst. Promise.)
> 
> I usually don’t write angst so I will appreciate any and all feedback regarding that! Also, I would love to read your thoughts and feels on the fic in the comments because they mean everything to me, so don’t be afraid to share! ^^
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and I hope to see you whenever I manage to write the next chapter! Hope you have a great week!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must note that this chapter is unfortunately unbeta'ed at the moment, so please forgive any mistakes, typos, or anything that seems downright stupid. I'll try to correct it ASAP (within 24 hours) so no worries.
> 
> In any case, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy! ^^

"He doesn't remember me." Victor whispers in Russian through tears. "Why doesn't he remember me?"

He turns to the doctor, raising his breaking voice, his cheeks wet, eyes red and burning, the question hanging in the air like an accusation.

The man clears his throat and looks at Victor with the same cold, uninterested gaze, his eyebrows gently lifted in surprise. They return to their usual position soon enough and the man blinks so deliberately it almost feels like a shrug. "Mr. Nikiforov." He sighs. "If you refuse to calm yourself I'm afraid I will have to ask you to leave."

"How can I calm myself when my own husband _doesn't remember me_?" Victor immediately barks in response, too devastated, too furious to take in the man's all but _bored_ stance without a word. The doctor may not care, but Victor cannot see why the man cannot understand his reaction, allow him the few tears that he's already shedding. It's not as though it's uncalled for; Victor has more than enough reasons to break down then and there. He feels like the fact that he's keeping it down to merely crying is already a great feat and a huge favor to both the doctor and Yuuri.

"Sir." The doctor grabs his shoulder and gives it a forceful squeeze. "You're scaring the patient. And in your current state, I'm afraid you cannot help me in the examination. So please, either collect yourself, or kindly leave."

And some part of Victor's temper tells him that he has no right to speak and treat him like this, encourages Victor to talk back, argue, fight, but Victor knows better than to listen to it. This may be a crisis greater than anything he had experienced in his entire life but he's aware that letting his emotions get the better of him now will help no one, neither him nor Yuuri, no matter how terrible he may feel. Victor tries to tell himself that the situation is probably not hopeless, no matter how bad it may seem.

"I apologize." He nods slowly as he wipes his cheeks with his sleeve. He would really prefer to calm down on his own terms, not be forced to it, especially in such a dire situation, but alas, this time expressing emotions is not a choice he has.

"Thank you." The doctor nods in turn. "What you may want to be aware of is that this memory loss may not be permanent."

Victor wants to glare at the man for not using this information when asking him to calm down in the first place, but he controls his urges. The news certainly brings him hope and helps to stop his tears. " _May_ not?" he still asks in concern.

"That is not something we can determine, I'm afraid." The man explains. "But we can check the extent of the loss. How long have you known the patient?"

"A little over a year now." Victor replies and can almost feel the doctor's disapproval of their early union through his aura alone. He chooses to disregard it.

"You mentioned he remembers who he is." The doctor begins and Victor eagerly follows up before he can even finish the thought: "Yes, name, age, family members and hometown. He also knows he's a professional figure skater."

"Yes." The doctor sighs lightly. "Could you ask him about the events of the past year? Perhaps that will bring some answers. They do not need to be related to you personally."

Victor nods, spends a moment thinking, and takes a deep breath. "Yuuri." He pronounces calmly, but forcing the usual affection out of his tone, aware that it will only make his husband uncomfortable (the thought breaks his shattered heart a little more). "Do you remember in which Grand Prix Series events you took part this year?"

Yuuri watches him cautiously, uncertain whether he should share the information. Victor turns his gaze away, lest it bothers his husband (more pain flares up in his chest). Finally, Yuuri speaks, doing his best to relax. "Cup of China and Rostelecom Cup. I won silver in China and placed fourth in Russia. I qualified to the Final and won silver there as well."

"And Celestino was your coach the entire season?" Victor questions, the doubt clearly audible in his tone, visible in his slightly raised eyebrows. He doesn't understand how Yuuri could believe that.

"Yes, that's what I said." Yuuri reaffirms confidently, no longer cowering in the corner of the bed. Though still uncertain and lost, Victor can tell that he is at the very least ready to argue.

"Do you recall who else qualified to the Grand Prix Final apart from you?" Victor presses, suddenly realizing where he can take this.

"Yuri Plisetsky from Russia, Christophe Giacometti from Switzerland, Jean Jacque Leroy from Canada, Otabek Altin from Kazkhstan and Phichit Chulanont from Thailand." Yuuri recites after a moment of thought.

"Yeah, Phichit from Thailand." Victor almost shakes his head at how much Yuuri can remember. "Who was his coach and where did he move his home rink this year?"

Yuuri's brows furrow in confusion at the oddly specific questions, but he seems to be curious as to where they are leading. "He was also coached by Celestino. And he moved back to Bangkok this year."

"And where did you live throughout the season?" Victor quickly follows up.

"Hasetsu-" Yuuri freezes, eyes wide, staring at some non-descript point in space. He speaks quieter, faster now, all but mumbling to himself. "No, I couldn't have lived in Hasetsu if I was coached by Celestino. But I didn't live in Bangkok either. But Celestino definitely coached Phichit, there's no doubt about that. But he was also the only person who could have coached me so… how…"

"Yuuri, I was your coach last season." Victor finally insists, betting everything on the contradiction. He knows it probably won't make Yuuri remember him, but he hopes that at least he will stop rejecting the possibility that they've known each other before. That they _more_ than knew each other before. "You ended your contract with Celestino the year before, when you moved back to Hasetsu."

"I… I did, but." Yuuri's squints and begins shaking his head, despite the pain it must be causing him. "But I don't remember you at all. How could I forget someone who coached me for a year? How could I forget someone that claims to be my husband? How… How is that even possible? I wouldn't forget something like that, I'm sure of it."

"You think so?" Victor sighs, having two more questions up his sleeve. "At the Worlds, where did you place?"

"In second, with another silver medal." Yuuri answers all but automatically. "But I really don't know-"

"And who took the gold that evening?" Victor poses the final time, carefully observing his husband now.

"I… I…" He stutters, before whispering: "I don't know."

"But how? How can I not know who beat me?" He goes on thinking out loud, shuts his eyes tightly and presses his palms to his cheeks as though some added pressure could make him comprehend the situation. "It makes _no_ sense."

"I think that's enough." The doctor speaks, placing his palm on Victor's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I went too far." Victor admits with a wince, as though seeing Yuuri so confused causes him physical pain (and in a way, it really does). The man only waves his hand dismissively.

"Mr. Katsuki, may I have your attention for a moment?" The doctor speaks in English and Victor gapes at him in surprise, previously certain that he encouraged him to ask questions and translate because he himself did not know English. The man continues, ignoring Victor's shock. "You are suffering from brain damage after hitting your head on the ice during practice. It appears your memories have been affected."

Yuuri stares at the man for a longer moment before he can formulate a question. "But… Is it really possible that the only thing I forgot is the existence of one person in my life? That's just… too bizarre to be true…"

"I would have said the same thing before I listened to you." The doctor admits. "But it seems that you remember everything apart from Mr. Nikiforov himself. It's a highly unlikely occurrence but it _is_ possible in rare cases."

"So… Are we really married?" Yuuri finally turns his eyes to Victor, finally catches and holds his gaze. Tears gather in Yuuri's eyes, and he struggles to blink them away. "Did I really _forget_ my husband?"

Victor forces his eyes to the floor and nods. He can't bring himself to look at Yuuri, not in this state. Yuuri is disoriented and terrified as it is. Victor doesn't want to add guilt to this mix of negative feelings.

But he steals a brief glimpse anyway, dares to only look up at his hands resting on his lap. Victor can tell that Yuuri noticed the ring. He knows he's examining it, the angle in which he lightly raises his right hand being more than enough proof. Victor wonders what's going through his head, what sort of justification he's creating in his mind. He wonders if Yuuri believes him and the doctor, or if he believes his own version of events. He almost starts praying again for Yuuri to trust him, well aware of the possibility that if Yuuri considers him a stranger, he may not want to meet or communicate with him at all. Yuuri refusing to trust him could very well mean… the end. He shuts his eyes and shakes his head. He allows his eyes to rise to Yuuri's face once more, hoping that he will understand his silent plea.

The first thing he notices is that Yuuri is watching him, must have been watching it for the past few minutes during which the doctor droned on, explaining his condition, detailing its causes and effects, and his options from this point onward. All of a sudden, Yuuri interrupts him, eyes remaining focused on Victor. "Can… Can I have some proof?" He asks, all but breathless. "That you're really my husband. Apart from the rings."

Victor thinks that the rings are the best proof he could get, that they should be _more_ than enough. But he supposes that they aren't, not to someone who remembers nothing, no matter how tangible and real they are. Victor runs his palm down his face and thinks. What sort of proof can he give him? What will convince someone who is sure that Victor never existed that they are married? What can Victor say to earn his trust?

Victor realizes that he doesn't need to say anything. He can _show_ him.

He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and draws out his phone. No, he quickly becomes aware, it's not his phone. It's Yuuri's phone. He left his at the ice rink, too dazed with the urgency of the situation to take it with him when the ambulance arrived. He wonders if he can do anything at all with Yuuri's phone, whether it contains any decent 'proof'.

Victor's eyes travel to the window as he tries to remember its contents.

He blinks.

It _does_ contain proof. Assuming that Yuuri didn't delete it, the phone houses more than enough proof.

"Can I have your permission to use your phone, Yuuri?" Victor asks and immediately hates the taste of the words in his mouth. Yuuri had allowed him unlimited (but responsible) access to his phone over half a year earlier, long before they were even engaged. The question he was forced to pronounce is a painful reminder of the distance that grew between them in the few seconds of Yuuri's fall. It's a reminder that he has to prove to his husband that he is indeed his husband and Victor can't help but despise the fact that this situation even has to take place.

Yuuri watches him vigilantly, slowly scanning his hands, his chest, his face before finally nodding hesitantly. "Yes."

"Thank you." Victor sighs as he taps the code in (1225, the date of his birthday because Yuuri is, or, used to be, sappy like that), and quickly moves to the gallery. He scrolls down until he reaches the content from February, holding his breath as he wishes for the thing he's looking for to be there, safe, undeleted, watchable – the best proof he has on him. And there it is _Thank God_ , the over one minute long recording. He taps the video and passes Yuuri his phone.

"Yuuri." Victor can hear his soft voice seeping from the small speakers, growing louder as Yuuri increases the volume to hear him properly. He squints without his glasses (which also got left behind at the ice rink) and brings the phone closer to his eyes.

Victor can't see the video from where he's sitting but he's watched it so many times that he knows exactly what Yuuri can see on the small screen – Victor lying in bed, hair disheveled, eyes half-lidded as he turns his head to the side, calling his husband closer.

"Yeah?" Yuuri replies in the video and enters the image of the footage, eyes closed as though he's falling asleep or had just woken up. The recording zooms out as Victor moves his hand to show both of their heads on one pillow, their noses touching.

"Kiss." Victor asks in that sweet tone of his to which Yuuri replies with a light groan, followed by an audible and visible smile. Yuuri leans in and they share a lazy kiss, their lips barely moving as they enjoy the touch and the light wetness more than anything else. Yuuri – the one sitting on the hospital bed and watching the video - covers his mouth with his hand, eyes widening as he watches on.

"Now smile." Victor pronounces louder once their lips part, and grins himself, showing a victory sign to the camera.

"Wait… Are you recording?!" Yuuri immediately opens his eyes and raises his voice, staring into the lenses with shock and accusation in his eyes.

"Yes? Don't worry, I won't upload it anywhere." Victor chuckles, the footage shaking along with his laughter. "It's just a commemorative video. To celebrate the first monthiversary of our marriage."

"Oh, it's been a month already?" Yuuri blinks in realization. "Yay us." He cheers in monotone.

"Don't tell me you forgot?" Victor frowns.

"Victor, it's 4 am, we can think of celebrations in the morning." Yuuri yawns, placing his forehead on Victor's, shaking the image once more. "And it's so easy to forget when I'm with you. You make me so happy that I don't even notice when weeks pass by."

"Yuuri." Victor coos happily before pressing a kiss to his husband's cheek, distorting the video with movement again. "You're so smooth when you're sleepy."

"I'm always smooth, what are you talking about." Yuuri laughs and Victor replies with the same.

"Happy monthiversary of our marriage, Yuuri." Victor smiles, glancing from Yuuri to the camera. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Victor." Yuuri lays a tired kiss on the corner of Victor's lips. "Happy monthiversary."

The video shifts focus to Victor and the large grin growing on his lips before Yuuri adds from the side: "Now, enough videoing, it's bedtime."

"Oka-" the footage ends before Victor can even finish the word.

By the time the voice from the speakers dies, Yuuri has turned pale.

He lowers the phone to his lap and stares at its now motionless screen. The air in the room is entirely still and neither the doctor nor Victor dare to move. It's as though the entire setting is waiting for Yuuri's verdict, as though Yuuri himself is waiting for it, expecting the answer to appear on its own.

The relative silence is finally broken by Yuuri taking a deeper breath through his nose. He opens his mouth. "It's us."

"It is." Victor confirms, his full attention on his husband.

"It's… it's enough proof." Yuuri finally admits with a nod. "But that means I… I really don't remember anything related to you at all."

"It's not your fault." Victor forces an encouraging smile, but the fact that not even such an explicit video could make Yuuri remember anything, even the smallest thing about their relationship hurts him more than he'd like it.

"Mr. Nikivorov is right." The doctor adds. "It was caused by the accident, Mr. Katsuki. It's nothing you could have helped."

"Will I remember?" Yuuri turns his eyes to the doctor. "Will the memories ever come back or is this permanent?"

"They may. It is not something we can estimate." The man answers simply.

"I see." Yuuri sighs and casts his gaze to his lap once more. "What am I supposed to do now though…"

"You have two options." The doctor doesn't seem to understand the rhetorical question. "You may either remain in the hospital for extra observation or you may return home. Considering that your condition is good, we have found no internal or external injuries apart from your head, and no symptoms of any other issues apart from the amnesia are present, there is no need for us to keep you here."

"I'm… not concussed?" Yuuri asks and tilts his head with a wince.

"Miraculously, it doesn't seem like it." The man's tone suggests a shrug, although his body remains stiff and unmoving. "Though it is possible for some symptoms to appear a few hours after the injury, which is why we would allow you to stay. But the fact that you're not suffering from nausea as we speak is a good sign that you will be fine and you could as well be sent home. If your headache worsens or if anything else comes up, you can always come back."

Yuuri only nods in silence, glancing to Victor then quickly to the doctor. Victor shuts his eyes tightly, inhales, and opens them with an exhale. "You have a third option, Yuuri. I can find you a hotel and pay for your room if you want. We used to live together but if you don't feel comfortable with that anymore, then I won't pressure you into coming back with me. You can stay somewhere else if you wish."

Getting the words out there causes the burn to flare up in his chest with its original power, so similar to the one when he saw Yuuri's body laying limp on the ice, but Victor forces himself to make the offer. He wants Yuuri to come back with him, he wants Yuuri to remember, he wants Yuuri to be the husband he used to be.

But more than anything, he wants Yuuri to be happy.

He doesn't want to force him to go home and live with a strange man who claims to be his husband.

Regardless of his memory loss, Yuuri is still his own person, he still has his own will, he is still perfectly capable of making his own decisions.

No matter how much it hurts, Victor wants to respect Yuuri's right to choose.

Even if his choice would mean the end of all they had.

He settles his gaze on the floor, waiting for Yuuri to say something.

"Can I make a phone call?" Yuuri finally asks and Victor only nods in response, and assumes the doctor does the same.

The next thing he can hear is Yuuri's finger tapping the glass of his phone, then the rustle of his clothes as he lifts it to his ear. Victor refuses to look at him, closes his eyes and waits in silence.

Yuuri's begins the call with a simple: "Mari-neechan?"

Victor doesn't understand the rest of the sentence. It's in Japanese. Yuuri is calling his sister. Victor isn't sure whether to breathe in relief or concern. He can only deduce so much by the tone of Yuuri's voice – rush, confusion, desperation. Once every few words, he hears his own name. He feels like he doesn't need to know Yuuri's exact words to know exactly what he's asking. He listens on to Yuuri's tense conversation, riddled with pauses and inflected syllables – questions. He wonders what conclusions Yuuri is reaching through listening to his sister.

Somehow, it bothers Victor that Yuuri is calling his sister. Not the action itself, but the fact that in order to believe that they're married, he needs his sister's second opinion. It's testament to how different everything is from just a few hours earlier. The thought sends pangs of pain through Victor's body with every beat of his heart.

Then, out of nowhere, Victor hears a sniffle. His gaze immediately travels back to Yuuri. Yuuri is covering his eyes with his free hand, his lips bent in a frown. He clenches his teeth with his next pause, the next affirmation leaving his lips turning into a sob.

And it's almost like the first time Victor saw him cry. He doesn't know how to react, what he should do, what Yuuri would like him to do. In the recent months, Yuuri cried on a few occasions and Victor could tell that he was getting better at comforting him, helping him calm down, cheering him up.

But that was when Yuuri still remembered him, when he _wanted_ him to brush away his tears and hold him close. Now, it's almost like that time back in China when they were still trying to figure out what to make of their relationship, when Victor didn't know whether wiping Yuuri's cheeks was the right thing to do. The main difference is that this time, Victor knows that 'should I just kiss you or something?' is not an acceptable suggestion. He makes no motion towards Yuuri, only watches him cry for a few moments, feeling as though he is punched in the stomach with every sob Yuuri forces himself to stifle.

Yuuri finally says his goodbyes, lowers his phone to his lap. He covers his eyes with both hands and attempts to take deep breaths with his mouth. They're shaky and uneven but they somehow calm him down. He rubs his eyes with his fingers and wipes his cheeks with the inner side of his palms.

"I think I'll… I'll go home." He announces finally, looking to the doctor, his voice still reminiscent of tears.

"But your home is-" Victor wants to cut in and remind him of their cohabitation. He hopes Yuuri doesn't mean his home in Hasetsu.

"I know. We live together. And I want to remember, Victor." Yuuri states firmly, turning his eyes to Victor, pronouncing his name, so similar to how he used to say, yet somehow different. "If I really am your husband then I want to remember it. I want to remember you."

And before Victor can even think of controlling it, tears gather in his eyes and his breath catches in his throat. "Thank you, Yuuri." He whispers, knowing how terrible his voice would sound now. "Thanks for giving me a chance."

_Thank_ … No, not God, not this time. _Thank you, Mari-neechan_.

Victor assumes that Mari's confirmation was what Yuuri needed to make the decision. He's grateful that she picked up and said whatever it was that she said. A part of him wants to be upset with the phone call, but he quickly disregards it, too busy being grateful, overjoyed that Yuuri would return home with him, that there was still hope for them.

As Yuuri busies himself with signing official documents of his hospital discharge, Victor approaches the doctor in Russian. "Could I ask for a favor?"

The man only raises his brows in confusion. "Yes?"

"Could I ask for your phone number? Your private one." Victor pleads and quickly follows it up with an explanation. "If any emergency comes up or if I need a consultation, I will need someone who is familiar with Yuuri's case. You said that it was a rare condition – searching for another neurologist and filling him in on the details would be a waste of precious time."

The man blinks and releases a deep sigh. "I'm afraid that is outside of my-"

"Please." Victor begs. "I am willing to pay extra for your services out of your work hours, but _please_ , we will need an expert if we want to help Yuuri. We can't handle this on our own."

The doctor lifts his hand and rubs his temples before finally shaking his head. "You needn't pay me extra. I will give you my contact details. But please keep it to emergencies _only._ Mr. Katsuki is not my only patient and believe it or not, I have a life aside from my job."

Victor feels like the man's final remarks aren't quite necessary, but he can hardly complain when he just agreed to help them. Victor profusely thanks him for his assistance as he places his business card in his pocket.

Before long, Yuuri is standing up from the bed, a little unsteady on his feet, but finding balance soon enough. The doctor explains that dizziness may be a side effect of the impact to the head, but it shouldn't cause them issues. Yuuri walks on his own, slower than usual but steady, proving that he doesn't need help with something so basic.

"Tell me if you suddenly feel worse, okay?" Victor askes softly as they enter the hallway.

"I will." Yuuri nods lightly. "I have no reason to hide it from you."

"Okay." Victor acknowledges, heading for the exit, following Yuuri with his eyes, making sure that he can walk alone.

When they leave through the main doors, they find themselves on the side of a small parking lot. It's a clear day and the shade of the sun's rays suggests early afternoon. Victor slowly scans the area with his gaze, and not finding what he was searching for, turns to Yuuri. "Could I borrow your phone? I'll call us a taxi. I left my own at the ice rink."

"Yeah, sure." Yuuri draws his phone out of the pocket of his sweat pants, offering it to Victor with almost a shrug-like motion.

"Thanks." Victor attempts a warm smile, but knows that it comes off forced. He can't quite smile the way he used to right now.

After the brief conversation, Victor hands Yuuri's phone back to its owner. "They should be here in ten minutes. Want to find a bench or something?"

"Yeah, let's do that." He replies quietly, somehow seeming smaller than before. Victor notices that he has his hands buried deep in his pockets, his shoulders pulled tightly together, and his breathing shallow – as though he's afraid. _No, that's not it._ Victor realizes it when he sees his own breath condense in a white mist in front of his eyes. He's _cold._

The day may be sunny, but it's only April and the temperatures still hardly rise above 12 degrees Celsius, the light wind making it feel even colder than that. Victor is wearing a coat. Yuuri has only the shirt and sweatpants he usually wears during practice. Victor figures it's only natural for him to be cold.

He wastes no time in removing the coat and placing it on Yuuri's shoulders. Yuuri's eyes immediately dart up to him as he fumbles with words, struggles to get his thoughts out there. "No. That's fine. I shouldn't… I'm not that cold, you don't need to give me your-"

"Take it, Yuuri." Victor insists. "Your coat got left behind along with my phone. I'm sorry for that. So just take mine for now."

"But then… you'll be cold." Yuuri frowns, meeting his gaze.

"I was born here, Yuuri. I'm used to such weather." Victor assures with a smile, more genuine now, because this isn't all that different to how they were with Yuuri before the incident.

"Well… Fine." Yuuri stops arguing and inserts his arms into the sleeves, reaching to button it up – proof that Victor's judgement was correct. "But tell me if you do get cold. I'll give it back."

Victor only waves his hand dismissively, assuring that he can have it.

As they head to the nearest bench, Victor notices that the coat is a little too big for Yuuri, the sleeves swallowing up his hands, the bottom hem brushing against the middle of his thighs. It's no great discovery, he's known that for some months now, but it's a pleasant reminder of the good times – Yuuri wearing his t-shirts, his jumpers, his sweaters around the house, letting the sleeves flop around, not minding the loose neckline stretching to his shoulder or revealing more of his chest than usual. It's just seven centimeters of height difference but sometimes Victor considers it precious.

Reaching the bench, his smile fades, as he remembers that he may not see Yuuri lounging around their apartment in his garments anytime soon. He takes a seat with a sigh, watching as Yuuri joins him. For a moment, he worries that the awkward silence will hang between them until the taxi arrives and beyond, but suddenly Yuuri speaks, his eyes focused on the concrete of the sidewalk. "So, you were on the ambulance?"

Victor blinks in surprise at the question. "Yeah, I was. I was the one who called it in the first place. When it came, I didn't even think of taking my phone or your coat with me, so I'm sorry about that."

"No, it's fine, I wasn't thinking about that." Yuuri shakes his head lightly. "I was just wondering if… you've seen how the accident went down. What exactly happened, that sort of a thing…"

"I did, but I'd rather not talk about it." Victor clips quietly. "I understand that you're curious but it was… a difficult experience, to say the least."

"You don't need to blame yourself." Yuuri smiles sadly and Victor can tell that he's sympathizing with him, that he knows the feeling very well. "It was probably my fault anyway. That's what it usually is when I get stupidly hurt, anyway. I get carried away and end up getting injured. That's how I fractured my wrists on a few occasions in my junior career, how I tore a muscle about three years ago, and how I now completely can't remember you."

"How can you tell me not to blame myself when you're doing the exact same thing?" Victor all but scoffs, then stops himself, realizes that this approach won't get them anywhere. "Anyway, the details of the accident don't matter anymore. We can't turn back time anyway. We just have to find a way to make this work now."

"Well…" Yuuri sighs. "Yeah, I suppose you're right. I'm just… sad, I guess."

"I could say the same thing." Victor exhales briefly and scoots a little closer to Yuuri. "Mind if we're sad together?"

"Sure, why not." Yuuri releases a quiet but genuine laugh. "Let's unite in our sadness."

Victor chuckles in response and in the next instant they're gazing into each other's eyes with light smiles, as though nothing has changed. For a moment, Victor thinks that maybe Yuuri has remembered something already.

But Yuuri soon averts his eyes, seemingly embarrassed, setting his eyes on the ground once more. "I hope I can remember you soon." He muses. "You seem like someone I'd enjoy being married to."

"Yeah, that's probably one of the reasons you married me in the first place." Victor smiles softly. "And I'm sure you'll remember. You always succeed when you put your mind to something."

"But what if I won't?" Yuuri worries, his voice growing quieter. "The doctor said that they don't know if it's permanent. What if it is?"

"Then we'll just have to start from square one." Victor shrugs, before blinking in realization. "Unless… You don't want that. Unless you want to forget that there was ever anything between us and just go your own way."

"No." Yuuri snaps, catching Victor's gaze. "I doubt I ever _wanted_ to forget you. We wouldn't be married if that were the case. So I'll do all I can, for now. If all else fails, then we'll start all over."

"Okay, Yuuri." Victor somehow can't help grinning. "I'm glad to hear it."

"Sorry, I know it sounds awkward." Yuuri shakes his head and lets his gaze fall to his lap. "But I feel like I know myself well enough to know that I wouldn't marry someone who wasn't incredibly dear to me. Which means that you're probably really amazing. I want to remember how much you mean to me."

"Thank you, Yuuri." The corners of Victor's lips rise in a warm smile, as he leans in closer. Suddenly, he stops. Usually, this is where he would kiss him on the cheek by force of habit, but he forces himself to stop and pull back. Yuuri says he'll do his best but that doesn't mean he can remember him, which means that he's probably not mentally ready for their typical affection. Victor becomes aware that he'll have to control himself until Yuuri remembers. There's no point in showering Yuuri with kisses if he doesn't want it.

The thought that he doesn't want it after they've enjoyed so much intimacy in the recent months hurts Victor, even if he understands the circumstances. His lips naturally turn to form a weak frown. He shakes his head, trying to not let it get to him.

Victor wonders why the taxi isn't there yet. He has no watch or phone to check the time, but he feels like ten minutes have already passed. He taps his feet on the stone of the sidewalk impatiently, his hands balled in his lap, his elbows close to his torso and his stance hunched. He thinks that he might have overestimated his resistance to April weather.

As Yuuri raises his eyes to him in order to speak again, he notices his posture and immediately reaches to the top button of the coat. "I told you you'd get cold."

"No, I'm fine." Victor reaches to Yuuri's arm, prompting him to stop. "Really. I'm okay. You keep it."

"But then I'll just feel bad for making you sit in the cold without a coat." Yuuri frowns.

"It's fine, the taxi should be here soon anyway." Victor assures and claps, hoping to beat some warmth into his hands. "Besides, I'd be much happier knowing that you're warm than being warm myself."

Victor attempts a warm smile, and without warning Yuuri raises his gaze and looks him in the eyes. He blinks without breaking eye-contact, his lips falling lightly agape and Victor can only tilt his head in confusion, wondering what Yuuri seems to be trying to read from his face.

"I felt that." Yuuri whispers as though he's only addressing himself, then shakes his head and lets his eyes fall on Victor's chest, a light blush dusting his cheeks. "Sorry, that sounds weird. But… yeah. I think I felt… _something_ when you said that. I mean, I can't remember anything yet, but… I don't know how to say it. I can definitely feel something. Think it's a good sign?"

"Yeah, probably." Victor chuckles, feeling a certain warmth rising to his cheeks. Yuuri's condition is a cause for concern to say the very least but this is almost like how they were when they started realizing that they were more than just a skater and his coach. It brings back fond memories of falling in love. Or, it does in Victor. He's more than well aware that Yuuri doesn't remember how similar this is to how they were less than a year earlier. But the memories give him hope; perhaps not all is lost yet, perhaps Yuuri can remember. Perhaps he still loves him despite forgetting all about him. "Tell me if you feel something more, alright?"

Yuuri nods vigorously and Victor can't help smiling at his enthusiasm.

Perhaps there's hope after all.

* * *

 

The taxi arrives before Victor can get much colder and Yuuri much more worried about hogging his jacket.

When Victor gives his address, Yuuri turns to him, surprised. "That's where I live."

Victor blinks. Yuuri can even remember _their_ _address_ but somehow not Victor himself. The thought makes him bitter. "Is that so? Interesting. When did you move here?"

"At the beginning of this year, pretty sure." Yuuri glances out the window in thought.

Victor sighs, forcing himself not to roll his eyes. "And do you know why you moved to St. Petersburg in the first place?"

"I…" Yuuri holds his breath, then exhales. "No. No, I don't. But I would venture to guess that since I don't remember it probably has something to do with you. Did I… move into your apartment?"

"Yeah." Victor releases the breath he pent up in his chest in his momentary contempt and shakes his head. He runs his palm down his face. He could swear, he's acting like a child, and for no reason at all. But somehow it irks him that Yuuri can remember almost everything from his life. It hurts that Yuuri can remember everything _but_ Victor. "Do you remember the layout of the flat?"

"…Not really." Yuuri winces. "Does it really matter though? Is this interrogation really necessary?"

Victor shuts his eyes tightly and shakes his head. He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Yuuri."

"It's fine." Yuuri sighs. "I don't actually mind you asking questions. Maybe they could even help me remember, but… I could live without the passive-aggressive tone."

"You're right. I'm being stupid." Victor nods, smiling sadly. "Sorry about that. Is there anything you'd like to ask?"

"Hm… Do we have painkillers?" Yuuri wonders. "I may not be concussed but my head isn't doing all that great."

"Yeah, we do." Victor thinks of their first-aid drawer. "I suppose we can stock up on more if you'll need them. Any… less pragmatic questions, maybe?"

"…Not really." Yuuri shrugs and watches the buildings pass by through the window. "I'm just… I hope that maybe something will come back to me once we get home."

"That's fair." Victor admits and glances out his own window. After a longer moment of silence, he adds: "Sorry for being petty."

"It's alright." Yuuri smiles lightly with a soft shrug. "I get the feeling that's something I already got used to."

"Shut up." Victor laughs and nudges his side with his elbow. "I'm not usually this bad."

"I wouldn't know." Yuuri chuckles. "I guess we'll find out soon."

Yuuri's words are somehow pensive and Victor can understand the sentiment.

He glances down at the small amount of space between them and catches sight of Yuuri's hand resting in the middle of it. He covers it with his own and gives it a light squeeze, the way he usually would, before he can think better of it.

Yuuri flinches and tries to draw his hand away, before looking up at Victor with wide eyes and freezing. "…Sorry. It's just…"

"It's fine." Victor releases his palm and places his own in the pocket of his sweat pants. "My bad. I got ahead of myself."

He takes a deep breath, realizing he was being a little too hopeful. Yuuri may trust him and he may act similarly to how he used to – he's still Yuuri, after all. But that doesn't mean that everything is fine. Yuuri still doesn't remember him, has no memories of ever being close to him. It's only natural that he would be wary of his touch.

And it's fine; Victor will wait for Yuuri as long as he needs to. He knows there's no point to sharing physical affection if Yuuri doesn't enjoy it. But just because Victor understands this, doesn't mean that his casual hand holding being rejected by his husband doesn't cause a tight, persistent pain to rise in his chest. He only inhales and exhales, hoping to breathe it away, hoping that he can get used to this all but complete lack of the precious warmth that he used to experience every day.

He glances at Yuuri and notices that he's trying to smile at him – a small apologetic smile.

Victor smiles back, hoping that it looks less forced and more reassuring than it really is.

They're sitting relatively close to each other in the small taxi, yet it feels like there's a great distance between them.

Victor wants to give Yuuri the space he needs.

He only hopes that the pain of doing so will fade away sooner than later.

* * *

 

"Would you mind getting the key, Yuuri?" Victor asks as they climb the stairwell to their apartment.

Yuuri stops in his tracks and blankly watches as Victor climbs a few steps. "But… Where is it?"

"Inner left breast pocket." Victor turns around and points at his own chest, hinting where Yuuri can find it in the coat.

Undoing a few buttons, Yuuri pulls out the jangling pieces of metal. He stops to look at the keychain – a plastic-encased picture of him and Victor in front of the door to the apartment. In the photo, they're holding each other close, all big smiles and carefree joy. He smiles at the picture weakly before passing the keys to Victor.

Victor watches him the entire time. He hopes that the raised corners of Yuuri's lips area a good sign.

As Victor inserts the keys into the lock, barking resounds from the other side of the door.

"We have a dog?" Yuuri blinks in surprise.

"No, it's just that our son was raised by wolfs and hasn't quite learned human speech yet." Victor smirks and immediately gets nudged in the ribcage with a soft laugh.

"Okay, I get it. Stupid question." Yuuri rolls his eyes, but does so with a smile. It's at those moments that Victor catches himself thinking that maybe nothing has changed after all.

As he leans on the doorknob, Maccachin greets them with his usual excited jumps, barks and sloppy kisses. Yuuri immediately seems to brighten up, kneeling on the floor, giving the dog a large hug and stroking his back lovingly with a grin. "He's so cute! What's his name?"

"Maccachin." Victor smiles at the delight with which Yuuri greets their dog.

"He's like a bigger version of Vicchan." Yuuri laughs, taking a close look at the pooch. "That's the poodle I had as a kid."

Victor knows of Yuuri's old poodle. "Vicchan? Do you remember his full name?"

"Victor." He blinks in thought, looking up from the dog. "That's his name, I mean. I guess that's a coincidence?"

"You don't remember why you named him that?" Victor lifts his eyebrows.

Yuuri shakes his head.

"You named him after a skater you admired as a kid. You got him in the first place because he owned a similar dog. Your sister told me you wouldn't stop gushing over how cute his poodle was." Victor recalls with a light smile, the passive-aggression from the taxi now replaced by a softer, kinder tone, filling Yuuri in on the memories he lacks.

It takes Yuuri a moment. "Don't tell me you were the skater I admired."

Victor only nods with a small smirk.

"So, you're saying I married my idol…?" Yuuri widens his eyes. "That's like living the dream."

"Yeah, I suppose it is." Victor agrees, thinking of all the times Yuuri clung to him just to remind himself that this was real, all the times that he just watched Victor for minutes on end, hyperaware of his luck, appreciating every single second that they spent together.

"It's almost too good to be true." Yuuri muses, stroking the dog's head one last time before standing up.

"'Almost' is the keyword." Victor reminds him. "I mean, you talked with your sister, didn't you? Didn't she confirm that it's true?"

Yuuri gazes at him in surprise for a moment, having not expected Victor to pick up who he was speaking with on the phone. Finally, he releases the tension between them with a longer exhale, his voice regaining a lighter tone as he rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah, I did. And yeah, she did. I know it's true, but… I don't know. I still can't remember anything. It's just… frustrating, I guess."

"Take your time, Yuuri." Victor encourages softly. "There's no rush. Feel free to look around the apartment a bit. Maybe something will trigger some memories to return? I'll find you the painkillers in the meantime."

Yuuri nods quickly and proceeds to unbutton the coat and place it on the nearby hanger. Victor watches him for a moment, slowly heading to the kitchen before he sees him freeze in front of a framed photo from their wedding placed on one of the shelves near the entrance. It features all of their friends and Yuuri's family in the background and Victor and Yuuri dressed in white tuxedos, holding a large bouquet and grinning with the purest joy. Yuuri picks the frame up and watches the picture for a moment with a smile.

"I guess we really are married…" he tells himself, his voice barely above a whisper.

"The ceremony took place in January." Victor steps closer to admire the photo beside him. "It's a good shot, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Yuuri nods. "You look great."

The compliment takes Victor off guard but he smiles anyway. "Thanks. You looked amazing in that tux. I'm glad we hired that tailor after all. Then again… you're always beautiful."

Yuuri has to chuckle because it's not what he expected to hear and he feels the need to hide the blush rising to his cheeks somehow. "Don't say such things so casually." He shakes his head with a smile.

"Did you feel that, perhaps?" Victor smirks, his eyelashes fluttering.

"Yeah, definitely." Yuuri nods, averting his gaze, looking around the visible area of the flat.

"Alright, let me find those pills for you." Victor announces before walking off into the kitchen.

He's reassured to know that Yuuri's reactions to sudden compliments haven't changed all that much from what they were at the beginning of their intimate relationship.

Once Victor finds the packet of painkillers in one of the drawers, he takes a sheet of the pills and a cup of water and proceeds to glance into the rooms of their apartment in search of his partner. He soon finds Yuuri in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of their bed, eyes focused on a large, framed wedding photo hanging from the wall. His gaze remains on the picture even when Victor enters the room. The photo shows them by one of the beaches in Hasetsu – the sand and sea in the background – and the two of them in the center of the picture, turned sideways, their foreheads resting against one another, eyes closed, their fingers intertwined, the smiles of most genuine happiness on their lips, and the same white tuxedos from the other photo. It was their favorite picture from the entire photoshoot, which earned it the best spot in the entire apartment - right across from the bed.

Victor can see only a part of Yuuri's face but he knows that there are tears in his eyes.

"We were happy, weren't we?" He sniffles, his voice quiet and breathy as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Yeah." Victor admits. He wants to wrap his arms around Yuuri, rest his head on the crook of his neck, kiss his cheek and assure him that he's right there, that everything's fine, the way they usually do whenever the other one gets overwhelmed by emotions.

Victor stands still. He knows that he can't act the way he usually would.

"God, I just really want to remember already." Yuuri shakes his head.

"You will. Just take it easy. Give it some time." Victor assures softly. "I brought you the painkillers."

"Thank you." Yuuri nods, turning to him, taking the sheet into his hands and popping out two pills. He swallows them with the help of a few sips of water. Holding the glass, he freezes for a moment before speaking. "Do you mind if I take a nap? Think it could help for the headache."

"Yeah, feel free to." Victor encourages, receiving the sheet of painkillers and the glass. "I can make lunch in the meantime. Or should I order takeout?"

"Some home cooking would be nice." Yuuri thinks out loud. "If you don't mind, that is."

"Yeah, no problem." Victor chuckles, heading for the door. "I'll wake you up when it's ready."

"Thanks." Yuuri repeats before laying down on his side, his head on one of the pillows, his back facing Victor. The latter lingers in the doorway, watching his back move as he breathes. Victor places the items in his hands on the bedside table, walks over to the closet and pulls out a blanket. He drapes it over Yuuri's tired body, lightly stroking down his arm once the fabric covers him whole.

"How do you feel?" he hopes to know before his husband drifts asleep.

"Stupid." Yuuri says firmly, his voice cracking briefly. "I feel so stupid."

He releases a brief sob and before Victor can ask why, he elaborates, covering his eyes with his palm. "What sort of idiot forgets his own husband?"

"Maybe one who suffered brain injury and shouldn't blame himself for it?" Victor suggests an unsolicited answer to the rhetorical question. He wonders if this is why he cried on the phone call with Mari.

"I know. I know but…" Yuuri swallows slowly. "I was happy. _We_ were. And now I can't remember any of it. _Nothing_. So, I'm just wondering: What did I do to deserve this?"

"Yuuri… You know that's not how it works, right? It was an accident. Not some God-sent punishment." Victor runs his hand down his shoulder gently, attempting to provide some physical comfort without going over the line that now seems to extend between them.

"I know. Of course, I know. But it just… it feels so unfair." Yuuri sniffles and Victor thinks that the hand covering his eyes doesn't do anything in the way of convincing him that he's not crying. "I finally get to be happy, married, my professional career paying off after years of hard work, living in our own apartment in a beautiful city, only to forget my idol, my coach, my husband. And I'm the only one to forget. It feels like _I_ am the problem, even if it's not that simple."

"I can assure that you're not the problem. Like I said, just take it easy. You'll probably remember eventually." Victor places his fingers on his upper arm. "It's not like everything will come back to you all at once."

"I was sort of hoping it could be that easy, you know." Yuuri admits with a bitter laugh. "Because I don't really have any idea on how to get my memories back apart from _hoping_ that they just reappear."

"Maybe I can just tell you about the things we did together? Retell you the story of our relationship, show you some of the pictures we've taken. Maybe that would work?" Victor suggests. "In any case, we'll figure it out, Yuuri. It's not the end of the world. We'll find a way."

"Honestly, Victor…" Yuuri uncovers his face and his reddened, wet eyes meet Victor's. "You don't need to pretend that everything's fine. I know that you're upset. You don't need to hide it."

"I don't think that expressing how upset I am will help us in any way though." Victor releases a heavy sigh. "I'd rather stay positive and hope for the best, support you as well as I can. Getting angry now won't help either of us."

"Well, you're not wrong." Yuuri exhales slowly, placing his head back on the pillow, no longer covering his swollen eyelids and wet cheeks. "It's just difficult…"

"It's not the first time it's been difficult. We'll manage somehow, I'm sure." Victor pats him on the arm.

"See, now that's something I wouldn't know. Since I can't remember, and all." Yuuri shrugs bitterly.

"Yuuri." Victor puts emphasis on his name. "Give yourself a chance. It's only been a few hours."

"Sorry." Yuuri sighs. "You're right. I'm just feeling… pretty bad."

"Which is understandable." Victor nods. "And which is why you want to take a nap, I assume?"

"Yeah, more or less." Yuuri admits, his eyes now turning to look around the room. "Do we have any tissues?"

Victor reaches to the bedside table and pulls out a piece of tissue paper out of the cardboard box. "Plenty." He balls the tissue and asks softly. "Can I?"

Yuuri blinks and looks at his hand before closing his eyes and lifting his head lightly. "Yeah."

Victor gently holds his face in place with the fingers of one hand placed on his chin, the other hand softly wiping his cheeks, dabbing at his eyelids, soaking up any remaining tears.

"There." He finally announces with a light smile. This is where he would usually press a kiss to his cheek, hold him close, make sure that he was fine. But his scope of actions is now limited. He instead lifts the tissue box and offers it to Yuuri. "Want to blow your nose?"

Yuuri nods and does exactly that.

"I still don't really know what to do, Victor." He confesses once Victor carries the used pieces of paper to the nearby bin.

"Just rest a bit for now." Victor suggests. "Maybe sleep will bring answers."

"Yeah, I hope so." Yuuri sighs. He takes a moment to look Victor in the eyes. "Thanks."

Victor only nods with a light smile and strokes down his upper arm once more – a sign that they're fine. "I'll get you when the food is ready, okay?"

"Yeah." Yuuri agrees.

"Sleep well, Yuuri." Victor wishes, resting his back against the doorframe, watching his husband turn on the bed, seeing as his back rises and falls with each breath, calmer now, actually attempting to fall asleep.

_I love you._ He wants to say, but he bites the words back.

Usually, they would be a tender way of expressing his affection. Now, they would only put more pressure on Yuuri.

Victor shakes his head and walks out of their bedroom.

He told Yuuri to take his time but he too hopes that he can end this walk on eggshells soon enough.

He strokes Maccachin's head, deciding on the dish he will make.

He hopes that cooking will be a good enough distraction from the pain gnawing away at his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I said that this story was going to be a "slow burn", I didn't know it would end up this slow. xD But hey, that means you can strap in for a longer (and hopefully, more enjoyable) ride. ;D
> 
> I usually like to keep the chapters in my stories similar lengths but... yeah, I already failed here, considering that this one is almost twice as long as the first one. Then again, I think that makes for a better reading experience since I can adjust the amount of content per chapter and make sure that each of them is interesting and satisfying in some way, even if they end up having irregular lengths.
> 
> Anyway, my rambling on chapter length aside, I would love to hear your feedback on the new chapter! Your thoughts and feels are very much appreciated and they help me determine what I'm doing right and what I could improve. Your opinions definitely mean a lot to me!
> 
> In any case, thank you for reading and I hope you have a great week! ^^
> 
> Till next time~
> 
> [Also, sorry if some of my notes don't make sense; I am somehow REALLY sleepy as I'm uploading this so I can't even tell if the words I'm typing actually mean something. I'll be back to fix that later!]


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look who's not dead! :'D
> 
> I'm really sorry for making you wait so long but a new chapter is finally here!
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy it!
> 
> Also, like most of my stuff nowadays, this chapter is unbeta'ed so you may encounter typos, stupid mistakes or things that just don't make sense. I'll try to fix all of that within 24 hours though, you know how I roll.
> 
> And with that, thanks for reading and I hope it was worth the wait! :')

"Yuuri." Victor calls softly, kneeling by the bed. " _Monsieur est servi_."

 _Dinner is served_.

Victor tends to casually use his extensive French vocabulary around the house, at which Yuuri initially rolled his eyes, but now finds endearing. Or, used to find it endearing, Victor reminds himself. He thought that perhaps acting the way he usually does around Yuuri will help him remember something, but now it only reminds Victor of the things he's lost when Yuuri's head hit the ice.

He takes a heavy breath, shaking his head, reminding himself that his own comfort is not the priority right now.

"Yuuri." He repeats, seeing no change in his husband's position on the bed, his eyes remaining closed.

He wonders what he should do next. Normally, he would wake Yuuri from his naps through a combination of softly calling his name, running his fingers through his hair, pressing kisses to his cheeks and temples and occasionally kissing him on the lips.

It feels so unnatural how he can no longer do any of that and must find a different way to wake him up.

"Yuuri." He calls him, placing a hand on his shoulder and hesitantly shaking him.

He receives no response.

"Yuuri." He repeats louder, frustration entering his voice. He shakes him again but this time applies a little too much force, startling his husband awake.

"Stop." Yuuri groans, burying his face in the pillow. "My head hurts."

Victor quickly realizes how utterly immature his behavior is. "I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

Yuuri doesn't reply for a moment and Victor feels compelled to add: "Are you upset?"

"No." Yuuri sighs, turning his face back to Victor, his eyes still closed and his voice groggy, rough around the edges. "Just sleepy. Otherwise, I'm fine."

"Is the pain getting any better?" he asks softly, suddenly aware that his voice could potentially irritate his headache.

"Yeah." Yuuri affirms. "Definitely feeling better than before."

"Okay." Victor allows himself a small smile, although Yuuri's closed eyes can't witness it. "Any memories, perhaps?"

"None so far." Yuuri admits with a light frown.

"Does it bother you?" Victor feels he knows the answer.

"Yes." Yuuri confirms his suspicions in the laconic reply.

"Don't worry about it, okay?" Victor pleads, stroking down Yuuri's arm. "We'll find a way to get them back."

"Any suggestions of how we should go about it?" Yuuri wonders with a sigh.

"How about we start with dinner?" Victor suggests, increasing the amount of enthusiasm in his voice, hoping that a little positivity can help them. "The food's ready."

"Dinner sounds good." Yuuri's eyes finally flutter open and Victor smiles – thinking that Yuuri can really be a sleeping beauty at times. His smile fades when Yuuri flinches, noticing how close Victor's face is to his own. Victor backs a few centimeters away, realizing that the usual distance between them had grown exponentially ever since the accident. He finds the tightness in his chest uncomfortable to say the least, but he much prefers to bear the discomfort on his own, than force it onto his injured husband.

"Then let's go before it gets cold." Victor encourages, standing up. "It's one of those foods that's best served hot."

"Okay." Yuuri quirks his lips, lifting his head off the pillow. "Let's go."

Yuuri stumbles forward as he stands and Victor is quick to express his concern.

"I'm okay." Yuuri assures. "Just dizzy."

"Do you want to hold on to me?" Victor offers his arm as support.

Yuuri hesitates for a moment before nodding and grabbing his husband's sleeve.

Victor leads him slowly down the corridor, but by the time they reach the kitchen Yuuri can easily walk on his own. He steps closer to the table and takes a deep breath, before turning to Victor with a hint of a smile. "Is this what I think it is?"

Victor knows that Yuuri would recognize the dish anywhere. He smiles back, approaching the two bowls and sets of chopsticks himself. "What do you think it is?"

"Katsudon." He guesses, hope glimmering in his brown eyes.

"Bingo." Victor confirms with a proud nod.

"You made katsudon." Yuuri stares at him in disbelief, a smile growing on his lips with each second. "Thanks."

He wraps his arm around Victor's waist and gives him a half-hug and it's sudden and awkward but Victor appreciates his effort. He pats him on the back lightly - a sign of acknowledgement, a wordless 'glad you like it'. "Let's eat."

They quickly sit and Yuuri is the first to clap his hands together and whisper the traditional _itadakimasu_ , before reaching for the chopsticks with unparalleled excitement, the grin large on his face. "Man, I can't remember the last time I've had one."

 _I can_. Victor thinks, but doesn't dare pronounce, not wanting to ruin the special moment. Yuuri enjoying his favorite food must be one of the sights he holds most dear.

As Yuuri grabs a piece of the pork cutlet with the chopsticks, he suddenly freezes. "But wait." He begins, hesitant. "Should I really be eating it just like that? Katsudon is meant to be a reward. I don't feel like I deserve it…"

"It's also meant to be a comfort food." Victor offers a warm smile. "And you do deserve something that can make you feel better."

"I suppose." Yuuri smiles lightly, eyeing his favorite food. "But what about my diet?"

"I used less rice than usual." Victor argues. "And it's the off season. Not to mention that it's just one pork cutlet bowl, Yuuri. It won't change much in the long run. So just enjoy it while it's here."

"Well, you are right." Yuuri admits with a nod. His eyes travel back to the bowl and he smiles. "Alright then."

Yuuri takes a large bite off the piece of pork cutlet. "It's really good." He affirms with a nod, covering his full mouth with his hand.

"Thanks." Victor chuckles and begins his own portion. He knows his katsudon can't compare to the one Yuuri's mom makes, but if it's enough to put a smile on Yuuri's face after all that's happened then Victor considers it high praise to his cooking.

Yuuri wolfs down the meal, delight painted on his face and Victor can't help forgetting about his own bowl and watching his husband for long seconds at a time. It's a relief to see him genuinely enjoying his favorite food the way he always had, regardless of the circumstances. More than anything, it's a reminder – Yuuri is still Yuuri, even if he doesn't remember Victor. It's a reassuring thought, somehow; after all, Yuuri fell in love with Victor once. Who is to say that he can't do it twice? Though Victor has hope that it won't have to come to that, that he can still remember. He can recall just about everything else, there's no reason he would permanently forget Victor. All that Victor really needs to do is give him the time and space he requires, be there for him and hope for the best. And Victor is more than willing to do that much.

When Yuuri finishes his katsudon Victor isn't even halfway through the rice. His tempo sure it's impressive, Victor thinks as he glances from the empty bowl to Yuuri's content features.

"Thanks for the meal." He nods politely and neatly places the used chopsticks on the left side of the bowl.

"You're welcome." Victor beams. "How was it?"

"Very good." Yuuri smiles back softly. "I can tell my mom taught you well."

"Does it taste like your mom's?" Victor asks in excitement. It was true – Hiroko had helped him learn how to cook Yuuri's favorite dish when they were still in Hasetsu. After a number of considerable failures, he finally got the trick to it, and from that point on it was only a matter of proportions and frying the cutlet for the right amount of time. All that Victor knows about making pork cutlet bowls comes from Yuuri's mother. It's no wonder Yuuri recognizes the familiar seasoning.

"Not quite, but it's close." He explains. "It's still very good, even if it's not perfect. I appreciate the effort."

"One day, it _will_ be perfect, I guarantee it." Victor assures, clicking the tips of his chopsticks together.

"We'll see about that." He shrugs, but the light smile remains on his lips. "If you manage, I certainly won't complain."

"We'll see about that indeed." Victor smirks, before placing a clump of rice in his mouth. The flow of the conversation is pleasantly similar to their usual banter and Victor feels hopeful. He keeps his eyes on Yuuri as he slowly finishes the dish.

His expression must seem particularly expectant because Yuuri suddenly frowns, his beautiful smile nowhere to be seen. "Did we…" he begins quietly. "Share any memories related to katsudon?"

"Well." Victor freezes, his face blank, wondering what his next step should be. He tells the truth. "Yes."

"Were you hoping that through eating it I could remember something?" Yuuri words his suspicions, his voice sad, then bitter. "Because I'm sorry, but I've still got nothing."

"Nothing wrong in hoping and trying out different options." Victor argues defensively, but his voice is soft. He doesn't want to yell at Yuuri – only justify himself. "And I thought you'd like some katsudon, especially after a day like this."

"I do like it." Yuuri sighs, his gaze traveling away from Victor and resting on the table, vacant, distant. "And I appreciate it. But the fact that it's not helping is, well… not helping."

"I'm sorry, Yuuri." Victor pronounces, helplessness in every syllable, a wish of wanting to help him remember left unspoken.

"Don't apologize." Yuuri shakes his head, his features nothing but disappointment and frustration. "It's not your fault. I'll just…" he takes a few steps back and motions his hand towards the living room, his eyes still avoiding Victor's. "Go sit on the sofa for a bit."

"Okay." Victor nods, watching him turn away and walk out of the room. He looks at the rice left in his bowl. He's lost his appetite. His stomach churns now not with the thought that Yuuri can't remember him but with the fact that his efforts produce no effects. And it's normal, obvious even, and he should have expected that much – Yuuri couldn't possibly remember something with one bowl of katsudon. And yet, Victor wished he would have. He knew it wouldn't happen and yet the tightness in his chest seems to worsen as he realizes that there is very little he can do here, that perhaps there is a risk that Yuuri will never remember. He doesn't know what will make Yuuri remember. All he knows is that he's just about useless in this situation, and can only sit there and hope for the best.

He picks up the bowls and chopsticks and leaves them in the sink. He places his hands on the edge of the counter, lowers his head and leans on his arms for a brief moment.

He can do this.

They can get through this.

Victor just has to be there for him, support him mentally.

He takes a deep inhale, then an exhale.

They can do this.

As he opens his eyes, he turns around and his eyes catch a glimpse of a colorful can in one of the cabinets he had opened while cooking.

He reaches for it and watches it for a few long seconds.

Mental support – he can do that.

And there is nothing that says 'mental support' louder than a cup of hot chocolate.

* * *

 "Yuuri." Victor announces his presence as he walks into the living room, two full mugs in his hands. "How is your head feeling?"

"Doesn't hurt as much as before." He admits. "Thank you for asking."

Only when Victor walks around the sofa on his way to the coffee table can he see Yuuri's expression. His husband is blankly staring forward, cheek rested on a closed fist, his elbow on the arm rest, legs pulled up to lay on the cushions. Victor tracks his gaze and locates the spot it's aimed at.

"Do you want me to turn the TV on or…?" he offers, wondering what Yuuri is thinking. Victor quickly realizes that he can just about imagine what's on his mind. The real question is: What can he do to help his husband?

He hopes that a distraction will be enough.

"You can." Yuuri clips apathetically, his voice monotone.

"Yuuri." Victor prompts him to look at him, and slowly, he lifts his eyes. "I brought you something."

He offers him the mug – his favorite, the one with poodles – and Yuuri takes it without further coaxing, only blinking in surprise. "Thank you."

Victor circles the sofa and sits on its other end, right by Yuuri's feet, taking a sip from his own mug. "You're welcome." He chimes, his voice as sweet as his hot chocolate. Yuuri prefers his black - if that is an appropriate way to refer to hot chocolate – no sugar, no cream, only rich dissolved cocoa powder.

Yuuri stares into his mug for a moment before allowing himself a hint of a smile, the smallest upturn of the corners of his lips. Victor watches with pleasure as Yuuri lifts it to his lips and drinks, his eyes lighting up the way they usually do whenever he's enjoying something. Victor smiles, breathing deeper in relief. Yuuri really still is Yuuri.

He continues to watch him intently, occasionally taking a sip from his own mug – this one with a tiger print design, a reluctant gift from Yurio for his birthday. Yuuri can't be halfway through his chocolate when he glances at Victor, catches his gaze for a few seconds, before lowering his own to his lap along with the mug. He sits in silence for a longer moment before reaching to the table, sliding a coaster across its surface and placing the mug on top.

"Victor, I hate this." He confesses, his eyes remaining on the half-full mug.

"I'm sorry, should I make something else?" Victor offers, his spirits suddenly dampened. He really hoped the chocolate could help them.

"Not the drink." Yuuri sighs, shaking his head. "This situation. I hate how I can't remember anything."

Victor worries that his husband will burst into tears again, but Yuuri's eyes remain dry, his features stern, frustrated. He's past the phase of crying, now entering the phase in which he only sits there being angry.

"You're upset." Victor notices, as though voicing the fact will cause him to stop.

"Not at you." He assures. "At myself."

"Give yourself a chance, Yuuri. It's only been a few hours. Give it time." Victor encourages softly.

"It's easy for you to say when you're not sitting there, knowing that you're married and yet remembering nothing of the person you're supposed to love more than anything else." Yuuri mumbles, pulling his knees closer to his core.

"Well, imagine being forgotten by your husband. It's not fun for me either." Victor sighs, rolling his eyes.

"What?" Yuuri finally turns to look at him, his voice booming from across the sofa.

Victor quickly realizes this was not what he was supposed to say.

"You think I don't know that? The main reason I'm so upset is because I know it affects _you_. I know that it bothers you, I know that it hurts you that we can't be the way we used to be and that's why I'm so mad." Yuuri raises his voice, his eyes and cheeks growing red. Victor can hear the tears creep into his voice as they begin to gather in his eyes. "Because this isn't just about me – I could handle some lost memories if they didn't feature another person. But because they involve you, I can't just shrug it off and hope for the best. The reason why I care is because it's difficult on _you._ The reason why I'm so mad is because I'm not only ruining my own happiness – I'm ruining _yours_. And I want to remember but I just don't know what to do anymore."

The last words are distorted as hysteria gets the better of him and he covers his face with his hands, trying to silence the sobs shaking his body.

"Yuuri." Victor watches him, eyes wide, a pang of pain rising in his chest. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I didn't mean-"

"I know." Yuuri insists loudly, sniffling, trying to swallow back the tears, attempting to speak. "I know you didn't mean it, but I'm under so much pressure right now… And I know none of this is your fault, but I'd like you to understand that I'm taking this so badly because I feel like I'm letting you down. All the time. You try to hide it but I can tell you want to be close to me, and that's normal, I don't blame you for it. And I wish I could. Trust me when I say that I want to be the Yuuri you know but there's just so little I can do…"

He trails off in a high-pitched wail and punches himself in the thigh. Yuuri hates to sound like this, to lose control this badly, and Victor knows this. He's at least partly responsible for putting Yuuri in such a state and the pain growing in his chest is suffocating.

"Yuuri, I'm sorry, it's okay-" he attempts quietly, knowing that it probably won't change much. But he wants to reassure him somehow, provide some comfort. Before he can even find the words, Yuuri cuts him off.

"You know what, forget it." Yuuri lets his hands fall to his lap, shakes his head and gets to his feet. "There's nothing either of us can do right now, so I'll just go sit alone until I calm down and then we can return to your acting like everything is fine and my self-loathing."

"Yuuri." Victor swiftly gets up, circles the sofa and steps in Yuuri's way before he can exit the living room. "At least let me apologize."

"Victor it's not-" Yuuri grabs his forearm lightly, his gaze on his torso, refusing to look him in the eye, soon letting his hand slide down to Victor's palm. He holds it limply for the briefest second, as though he's going to let go, before suddenly squeezing it.

"Victor." Yuuri whispers slowly, his mouth agape, his eyes finally finding Victor's, his hand tightening as he watches him as though he's experiencing an epiphany.

"What?" Victor blinks, taken completely off-guard.

"Victor you… you _were_ my coach." Yuuri pronounces softly and Victor notices that he's not crying anymore. His eyelids are swollen and his cheeks are wet but otherwise there are few indications in his face that he's just experienced a breakdown.

"…What?" Victor repeats, the words not quite making sense in his head. He can hear him just fine in the silence of the room but the words somehow don't fit together, not after all that has happened today.

"Victor, I remember." Yuuri explains, grabbing Victor's other palm and giving it a reassuring squeeze. A smile grows on his lips as he speaks. "The coach part at least. You were my coach. You still are."

"Wait." Victor doesn't want to celebrate only to discover that he had misunderstood him. "What exactly do you remember?"

"This." Yuuri intertwines their fingers and rises to his tiptoes to press his forehead to Victor's. Yuuri's face appears blurred due to the proximity but his breath sounds excited and relieved, and Victor can feel a myriad more nuanced emotions in the warm air gently caressing his lips and cheeks.

"And this." Yuuri speaks softly as he pulls his head away and lets go of Victor's hands only to bring his arms around him and place his head on his shoulder in a tight embrace. "A lot of this."

"Oh my God, you remember." Victor finally allows himself to believe, to accept the truth. His voice rises an octave in his glee. "Yuuri, you remember."

"I can't recall everything just yet. But the coach part? I do remember." Yuuri elaborates calmly, and Victor can tell he wants him to understand the situation in full.

Victor does understand, but this is more than enough. He hugs him tighter. "Yuuri."

"Thank God you were so unprofessional." Yuuri chuckles and Victor can hear the large grin in his voice.

"Yuuri." Victor laughs in response. After a moment of silence, he whispers. "Can we stay like this for a moment?"

"We can." Yuuri replies easily.

They remain in the embrace for a longer while, taking in the familiar warmth, the unique smell of each other's clothes, the unmistakable sound of their respective breaths. It's only a few hours since they've last done this and yet Victor enjoys it as though he hadn't hugged Yuuri in years. So much had happened in such a short span of time, and all throughout it Victor wished for some comfort. He longed for it more than ever. Now that he finally has his husband in his arms after having completely lost hope that Yuuri would remember him anytime soon, it's all a little too much to take in at once.

Victor's eyes are burning and he clenches his jaw, attempting to keep himself together, but at long last a sob spills from his lips. Tears are quick to follow.

"Victor." Yuuri pulls away and immediately cups his cheeks, surprise painted on his features. "You're crying."

He is. The statement hardly does anything to stop him. He lets the tears flow down his cheeks and flexes his lightly trembling lips into a smile. "I'm happy."

"Victor." Yuuri's eyes soften and he wipes the small streams away with his thumbs. "It's okay."

"I know." Victor smiles with more power now. "Just give me a moment."

Yuuri does. They loosen their embrace but they remain with arms around each other's waists, each supporting the other, their heads nestling together.

When the tears stop and his breath returns to normal, Victor is the first one to speak. "I'm sorry for what I said. It was insensitive of me."

"It's fine, I'm not mad about it." Yuuri sighs. "I do prefer it when you're honest with me, even if the truth hurts."

"Still." Victor holds him closer. "I'm sorry for all the pressure."

"Most of it came from me anyway." Yuuri insists. "Don't blame yourself for it."

"At least let me take a bit of the blame, Yuuri." Victor pronounces with a sad smile. "It's more than one person can carry all on their own."

"Okay then." Yuuri smiles. "I'll let you have a bit of it."

"Thanks." Victor chuckles.

"And I'm sorry for making it sound like you were the source of all the pressure. You're not." Yuuri assures. "I also want to remember for myself. I want to be happy. I want us to be the sweet couple from the wedding photos. I'm doing this for myself, too."

"I'm glad to hear it." Victor confesses. "I'd be sad if you were completely disregarding your own wishes and doing it just because I wanted it."

"Don't worry." Yuuri squeezes him tighter. "I'm not _that_ nice."

They share a few seconds of laughter before deciding to move to the sofa.

The (no longer hot) chocolate vanishes from the mugs after a celebratory toast and a ceramic _clink_.

Victor lies down on his side, his head on one of the cushions and Yuuri, after the briefest moment of hesitation, joins him. They lie side by side, but Yuuri is facing the ceiling, his hands on his stomach, whereas Victor is supporting his head with one of his arms. Yuuri's side is lightly touching Victor's front, but neither of them seem to mind it particularly much.

"Would it be too much if I ran my hand through your hair?" Victor wonders out loud, admiring the inviting look of Yuuri's brown strands.

"You've always been tactile." Yuuri laughs and both the sound, and his actual words fill Victor with joy. "I don't mind. Just be careful; my head is still sensitive."

"I will." Victor assures. And just as he promised, he's gentle, only running his fingers through the hair on the top of Yuuri's head and down one of the sides. Under his touch, Yuuri relaxes and closes his eyes and Victor can finally breathe with ease.

When Victor tires, he rests his hand by Yuuri's head, which the latter quickly amends by taking the hand, holding it, and placing it on his other palm laying on his stomach. Victor smiles and squeezes the warm palm in delight.

They remain in the companionable silence for some time before Yuuri speaks. "You know I still don't remember the engagement or the marriage or what we did in private, right?"

Victor is well aware of it, but considering his coaching career, he knows that they were close even before they began kissing on a regular basis and getting more intimate. "Yeah, and?"

"I just… don't want you to get your hopes up." Yuuri shrugs, watching the ceiling.

"But Yuuri, you _can_ remember. It's not an impossible task anymore. So it's fine if it's not tonight or tomorrow, you can take all the time you need." He insists, squeezing his hand tighter. "As long as there's a chance that you'll remember eventually, that's good enough for me."

Yuuri finally turns his head and gazes deeply into his eyes before voicing his greatest concern. "What if I never remember the rest?"

"Would you be willing to fall in love with me all over again?" Victor asks simply.

Yuuri takes a moment to consider this but he already knows the answer. He smiles. "Yes."

"Then what's the issue?" Victor chuckles.

"Thank you." Yuuri pronounces before wrapping his arms around Victor once more.

"We'll find a way, Yuuri." Victor hums, stroking down his back. "As long as you want it, we'll find a way to make it work."

"Of course I want it." Yuuri smiles as he slowly pulls away and finds Victor's hand once more. "That's why I put a ring on it."

"You said you don't remember the engagement." Victor laughs.

"I don't. But I know the rings were my idea." Yuuri explains.

"They were." Victor smiles softly. "A great idea, if I may say so myself."

* * *

 They lie on the couch and exchange memories, hugs and tender touches for over an hour before Victor begins to yawn, the fatigue of the day finally catching up to him. They each decide to take a shower before crawling into the warm embrace of the thick comforter on their bed.

"Are you really okay with sleeping in one bed?" Victor wants to make sure when he comes back from the bathroom and finds Yuuri splayed on the mattress, enjoying the space, the feel and the warmth of the sheets with a small smile.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Yuuri shrugs. "It's not like we waited until marriage to sleep in the same bed."

He pauses and knits his brows. "Or did we? I've no idea, help me out here."

"We didn't." Victor laughs. "The first time we slept in one bed was last summer. It was pretty casual, almost platonic. But then when you woke up you realized that I was clinging to your arm and drooling on your shoulder in my sleep."

"How did I react?" Yuuri asks with a light smile.

"You wiped off the drool, shifted my arm and shyly held my hand." Victor recalls with a blissful expression.

"Sounds like something I'd do." Yuuri blushes lightly, thinking about how embarrassing that must have been.

"Like I said, _almost_ platonic." Victor chuckles, slipping under the comforter.

They lie on the two pillows for a moment, watching each other before Victor hesitantly opens his arms and Yuuri quickly enters his embrace. Victor chuckles as he turns out the lights and holds Yuuri close.

"I love you." Yuuri pronounces slowly, uncertain, the syllables awkwardly falling out of his mouth.

Victor only sighs. "Don't force yourself, Yuuri."

"But I'd say something like that before going to bed, wouldn't I?" he tries to justify.

"Yeah." Victor admits. "But do it because you mean it, not because you think that's what I want to hear. If there's anything I want, it's for you to be true to yourself."

"Well…" Yuuri holds his breath as he considers. "I guess."

"But then." Yuuri quickly follows up. "You say it. I want to hear it."

"I love you, Yuuri." Victor hums affectionately, finding his husband's forehead in the darkness and pressing his own to it. He would kiss him, if it weren't for the fact that Yuuri doesn't quite feel comfortable with it yet. He promised that he will tell him when he's ready.

"I can feel it." Yuuri whispers with a clear smile, his cheeks warm. "Thank you for being so patient with me."

"Thank you for being so strong, Yuuri." Victor pronounces, stroking down one of his arms.

"I've cried like three times today." Yuuri chuckles, a sad tone entering his voice. "Nothing strong about that."

"Nothing wrong with crying." Victor assures. "You're stronger than you think."

"I guess." Yuuri sighs. "It just doesn't feel that way sometimes."

"I know. It's one of those things you just have to believe." Victor explains.

"You're probably right." Yuuri admits. "Thanks for being here for me."

"Thanks for wanting me by your side." Victor smiles.

"Goodnight, Victor." Yuuri chuckles, his arm resting on Victor's waist, holding him close.

"Sleep well, Yuuri." Victor whispers.

Feeling each other's breaths on their lips, they slowly drift asleep.

* * *

 When Victor wakes, it's to Yuuri's piercing scream.

He rubs his eyes and reluctantly glances around the room, searching for his husband.

When he spots him kneeling on the edge of the bed, he knows something is wrong.

"Who- Who are you?" Yuuri stutters, his voice high-pitched in shock.

"What?" Victor isn't sure if he's hearing him wrong because he's not quite awake yet. "What's wrong, Yuuri?"

"What's _wrong_?" he repeats, incredulous. "I wake up with a huge headache next to a stranger, and I remember nothing from the previous night so I think there are at least a few things wrong here."

"What?" Victor sits up, refusing to believe his ears.

"Listen, I'm sorry for all this, but you need to leave." Yuuri insists, his features a picture of desperation. "I must have been really drunk because I don't usually bring random guys back to my apartment and all of this was a huge mistake and the reason why I'll probably never drink again, but try to understand me here and please, just go."

"You don't recognize me?" Victor watches him, brows knitted. "I'm Victor. Nikiforov. Figure skater, coach, and your husband."

"What?" now Yuuri is the one looking at him with his forehead wrinkled.

"Yuuri, we went through this yesterday." Victor sighs, hoping he can reason with him and put an end to the panic. "You had an accident. You lost all memories of me. We went home together and eventually you remembered I was your coach. Don't tell me you… forgot?"

"I'm sorry, I really have no idea what you're talking about." Yuuri shakes his head violently.

"Call your family if you don't believe me." Victor clips bitterly, getting up from the bed. "I'll be back in a moment."

Victor storms out of the room, closes the door behind him and stomps down the corridor, his mind echoing with the painful thought that _Yuuri forgot him_.

 _Again_.

Just when he had remembered something about him, about _them_ the previous night, now all of it is gone.

 _Again_.

Victor hopes it's just some sort of morning disorientation, that everything will come back to Yuuri after a few minutes, but the void in his chest grows regardless, filling him with hurt.

 _Again_.

When he reaches his coat, he searches the pockets and finds the doctor's business card, before heading off to the single landline phone in the apartment, located in the kitchen.

He needs a moment to calm himself, taking deep inhales and exhales.

It takes him longer than expected and he ends up winded.

He slumps his back against the wall, slowly sliding to the floor, his head in his arms.

After all that stress, they're back to square one.

Being forgotten by his husband once was terrible enough.

Being forgotten twice was nothing short of devastating.

Victor prays for Yuuri to walk out of the bedroom remembering who he is to him, even if he only remembers the coach part.

He feels like his prayer falls on deaf ears. If any god at all can hear him, they don't care.

For the second day in a row, the universe shows him its cruel indifference.

Victor can't help wondering how much pain the new day will bring the both of them.

He only hopes it'll go easy on Yuuri. He already had it difficult enough.

Victor can take the extra pain in his stead.

Or so he tells himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for taking so long to update - I was working on a few other stories and had a lot of stuff going on in real life (not bad stuff - I was just busy with uni and such), and I've been sort of struggling with a weird sort of writers block and I really needed a moment to get my shit together, sit down and write something I would be satisfied with.
> 
> I'm quite satisfied with this so let's hope it means my shit is indeed together. xD
> 
> Jesus Christ, it's literally 5 am and I can't think anymore but I wanted to deliver this as soon as I was done, so these notes are the testament to my 5 am rambling :')
> 
> As always, your feedback is appreciated! If you had any thoughts and/or feels while reading this chapter, I would love to see them in the comments! They mean a lot. <3
> 
> Thank you so much for your guys patience and I hope that you won't have to wait for the next update for like, five weeks. xD
> 
> Hope you have a fantastic day and a great week and I hope to see you soon!!
> 
> PS: I just noticed that the plot of this story that you can see in the description only starts now, in chapter 3. Long winded? Me? No way. ;')


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy, remember me? Still not dead. :D
> 
> As always, sorry for the wait and I appreciate that you guys are still interested in this fic! ^^
> 
> I'll be posting a longer explanation of why it takes me so long to update nowadays in the end notes, but for now:
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter and thanks for reading!

"Hello?" Victor begins once he hears the greeting coming from the receiver. "This is Victor Nikiforov. I'm calling about Yuuri. It's an emergency."

"If he has begun showing symptoms of a concussion, I recommend taking him to the hospital." The man advises, utterly disinterested, slow, as though he has just woken up. "There isn't much we can do over the phone, sir."

"It's not a concussion." Victor supplements quickly, almost stumbling over the words. He failed to calm himself down and if he could, he would still be sitting curled up on the floor, despairing over the situation. With the sheer force of will, he managed to get to his feet and call the doctor, knowing that this was his only hope for some sort of solution or explanation. At the moment, Victor will take anything – anything but the crushing feeling of helplessness that fills the apartment. The doctor is all he has. "Last night, he remembered something about me – he remembered I was his coach. But when he woke up this morning, just a few minutes ago, he couldn't remember me. At all. He didn't remember yesterday or anything that involved me before that. Which is basically identical to what happened when he woke up at the hospital. What do you think about it?"

"Does he remember everything else? Like his career or the events of recent months?" The doctor asks, his interest piqued.

"I didn't ask him. But I'm assuming that yes." Victor sighs. "Is that even possible? For him to forget only me _again_? Even though he didn't hit his head again?"

"I must say, I have heard of a similar case only once in the past…" The doctor allows the sentence to hang in the air, the sub-clause featuring the conclusion stuck somewhere in his throat, as though he's not quite certain what to do with it. And Victor ponders the idea that perhaps the man thinks the same as him – that there is no clear-cut conclusion, and therefore there is nothing more to add.

But the silence bothers him. "And?"

"And… I was quite certain it was impossible, to be perfectly honest." The doctor confesses frankly.

"But _what_ exactly is impossible?" Victor pries, wanting to have a better understanding of their current position. "Do you know what sort of situation we're looking at here?"

"Well, judging by your description, it sounds like his partial amnesia was triggered without any additional trauma to the head. In other words, his short term memory extending to yesterday is malfunctioning. It's almost as if," and here the doctor hesitates, looking for the right words. "His mind had reset itself to the moment when he first woke up after the accident. Which essentially means that any events between that moment and now have been purged from his memory."

"But… how?" Victor asks weakly.

"I am afraid I cannot give a straight answer." The man sighs. "There simply haven't been enough cases to study the issue properly. It's an incredibly rare occurrence and a product of unusual changes in the brain."

Victor needs a moment to take it all in, analyze what he had just heard. Finally, he takes a deeper breath. "You said that there was no trigger, right?"

"Well, no trauma-related trigger, at least." The doctor argues.

"Point is – we don't know the trigger. Does that mean this can happen again? If, say, he remembers me, is it possible for him to wake up with no memory of me again?" Victor demands, hoping that the answer will be no. Going through this once (twice, if he counts the moment at the hospital) was enough.

"Well, yes." The doctor admits and Victor can feel his heart sink. "In the other case I have heard of, the patient in question woke up everyday remembering only the events from before the accident, no matter how much time had passed since."

"So you're saying that even if he does remember me eventually, he'll forget everything when he wakes up the following morning?" He asks, his throat tightening, the weight in his chest pressing down with suffocating force.

"Essentially, yes." The doctor confirms.

Victor refuses to believe it just yet. He's certain he's misunderstanding something. "No matter what happens, he'll never remember anything that occurred since the accident?"

"Well, he may remember eventually. We will have to observe that." The doctor offers.

"But the point is that he'll forget me every night and will wake up having no idea who I am, yes?" Victor simply pleads in his mind for the man to say no because he can't imagine a worse outcome than this.

"It certainly seems that way." The man answers, his voice softer, all but… sad. "I am sorry."

"…Is it permanent?" Victor demands, shutting his eyes tightly, trying to not let the news get to him, knowing that he's already failing.

"In the other case, it was. I have no way of knowing if that will be the same for Mr. Katsuki." The doctor replies simply.

"So it might be…" Victor sighs, his heart sinking so low in his chest that he can feel it pulsing in his stomach, a tight knot tied within it, only a little short of the pain of a punch in the gut. "Is there anything I can do for him?"

"Be there for him. That is the best thing you can do." The man recommends and Victor can't help being surprised at how human his words are.

His throat is tight as he pronounces one of his largest dreads. "What if he won't want me?" His voice is small, the pitch a little too high.

"I'm afraid that is a question you will have to find the answer to on your own, sir." The doctor sighs, but Victor feels like it's somehow sympathetic. Like the man is actually attempting to sound less cold than usual.

"Of course." Victor agrees on an exhale before clearing his throat convincingly. "That's all I can report for now. Should I contact you again if I learn more or if his state changes?"

"Feel free to." The man encourages. "Do you have any other questions at the moment?"

 _Can our marriage survive this? Will he ever love me again? Will I wake up one day and he'll be gone, on his way back to Japan, certain that I never existed?_ Victor has nothing but questions. But he's painfully aware that the neurologist can't help him with any of them. Right now, he needs time to think everything over, understand all the implications of what they have just established. He figures that more concrete questions will come to him eventually.

"No." Victor admits. "Thank you for your time." His tone is dry, his mind too preoccupied to focus on genuine-sounding expressions of gratitude. "I wish you happy holidays."

"To you as well, sir." The man replies before ending the call.

Victor never much cared for Easter, but his lack of interest reaches new lows now that his meticulously crafted happy life seems to be falling to pieces, leaving only rubble behind. There are only a few days left till Saturday when he originally intended to show Yuuri how Easter is traditionally celebrated in Russia, but his plan is in shambles and he doubts their current predicament can be solved in a matter of days. He feels like he couldn't care less for Easter celebrations and yet it's the only thing he can think about.

Because the alternative is thinking about the fact that his husband will forget him _every. single. day._

And Victor isn't ready to process that reality yet.

He returns the receiver to its place lazily, slumping against the wall once more and curling up. He pulls his knees to his chest and rests on forehead on his kneecaps. He finds it hard to breathe and only squeezes his legs harder, clenching his jaw, doing his best to keep himself from falling apart. He hasn't felt this bad since the time Yuuri told him that he wanted to end their relationship after the Grand Prix Final. At the time he was angry and that is also the case now. But back then he was angry at Yuuri, for keeping his plans from him, for not consulting his decision with him. Now, he's only mad at himself, because all of this is essentially his fault – he's the reason why his husband is broken and he has no idea how to handle it. None of his actions in his life had ever amounted to anything that required this amount of responsibility. He digs his nails into his shins. It's all too much.

Suddenly, he becomes aware of footsteps, loud on the hardwood floors. He raises his head and quickly realizes that they don't belong to Yuuri, that they're not _human_ steps at all, more pawsteps than anything. It's Maccachin that enters through the kitchen door, spots him immediately and trots over to sit by his side.

He watches him with those large, patient black eyes, his muzzle open as he quietly huffs the air in and out of his system. Somehow, Victor expects to see some form of anger reflected in them – anger that his owner still wasn't giving him breakfast, that his last walk was very short because his owner was busy making dinner, that his owner paid barely any attention to him the previous night because his owner's special person was the only thing his owner could focus on, going so far as to forget his usual good-night pat on the head. And yet, the poodle's eyes suggest not even the smallest amount of annoyance. Victor even suspects that he had stayed out of their way the previous night because he somehow knew that something was wrong, as though he was saying _I know he needs you more right now._

Victor doesn't know if it's true or if he's making it all up but the thought brings tears to his eyes. He reaches out and Maccachin closes his eyes and leans into his touch as he gently strokes his head.

"Hey, fluffy." He speaks softly, his voice shaky, on the brink of crying. "Come here. Papa needs a hug."

He flattens his legs, opens his arms and the dog easily hops onto his lap and into his embrace, as though he actually understands his words.

Victor clings to his soft, warm body, pulling him close and burying his face in his fur. And it helps, just a little bit. Maccachin is there for him, the way he had always been there for him in times of need. The dog can't possibly understand the current situation but he knows that his beloved owner is sad and he wants to help in any way he can. And as Victor releases a shaky little breath, a sob escapes his lips and he holds his pet tighter, closer and Maccachin licks at his chin, hoping that his tongue can provide some comfort to the distraught member of his pack. Because if his owner can take care of him every day, then he can take care of his owner for a change. Victor only assumes this is what his pet thinks, but the thoughts make him feel better.

Until they don't, because he suddenly feels like he's only using Maccachin as a replacement for Yuuri – he can't hug his husband, so he's hugging the dog. The dog that he mostly ignored the previous night when he was preoccupied with Yuuri. And Victor is filled with guilt, for only caring for Maccachin when he needs him, for only holding him close when it's convenient. He knows it's not true, he knows that Maccachin has been happier with Yuuri in his life, that he's been getting twice as much love, longer walks, more playtime than ever since Yuuri moved in, and yet it's so easy to forget it all in his distress. For just a moment, he feels like he doesn't really deserve the dog's unconditional love. He loosens his grip around him and throws his head back to stare at the ceiling that becomes blurred in his eyes all too quickly.

The poodle barks softly and licks across Victor's cheek as a stray tear escapes his eye and rolls down its surface. Victor can't help smiling as he wipes the slobber off with the top of his palm. "No licking." He chuckles.

He looks at Maccachin, cups his muzzle in his hands.

His large black eyes don't mind his shortcomings. They love him regardless.

They love Yuuri just as well.

"Thank you." Victor whispers, stroking down his head affectionately. "Breakfast?"

Macchachin carefully slips off of his lap and walks over to his bowl, wagging his tail in anticipation.

Victor gives him his usual portion of high quality dog food and watches as he begins eating with a light smile.

He becomes aware that it's his usual routine that will most likely keep him sane and functioning as he usually does.

But how much of his usual routine will remain the same now that such an essential part of his life seems to have changed so much?

He tells himself he can adapt, whatever that may entail.

He wonders how well it'll all go in practice.

He decides that wondering won't help him much, that he needs to go back there and talk to Yuuri to figure out a plan of action.

He opens a cabinet, takes out a clean glass, pours water until it is more or less half-full.

From a nearby drawer, he pulls out a sheet of the usual pain-killers, and glass in hand, heads to the bedroom.

His knuckles connect with the wood of the door in a soft knock. "Yuuri, can I come in?"

"Yes." Comes the quiet response.

Victor is about to press on the door handle when Maccachin trots over from the kitchen and looks at him expectantly.

Victor blinks, thinking that the dog finished his meal faster than usual. Looking at how close he's sitting to the door and wagging his tail, Victor figures he really wants to see Yuuri, which makes him smile and actually makes him feel better.

He cracks the door open, but only wide enough to stick his head through the opening. "Would you like some painkillers?"

He finds Yuuri laying on his back on the middle of the bed, his arms spread wide on the comforter. He stares at the ceiling as he answers. "Yes, please."

"How do you feel?" Victor follows up.

"Not terrible. But not very good either." Yuuri admits, his voice monotone, his gaze nowhere near Victor's. "Confused."

"Would a puppy make you feel better?" Victor suggests with a light smile.

This captures his attention. Yuuri turns his head to look at him. "A puppy?"

Victor nods, opening the door wider. Maccachin bursts like a bullet into the room, immediately jumping on the bed and tackling Yuuri as he attempts to sit up. And Yuuri releases a beautiful sound that Victor was certain he wouldn't get to hear anytime soon – he laughs. "That's one big puppy."

Maccachin lays down on his chest and watches him, happily huffing through his open mouth. Yuuri raises his hands to the sides of his head, rubbing down his ears, stroking down the graying fur on his neck. "An old puppy, too."

"It's been a few years but he'll always be a puppy to me." Victor chuckles, entering the room and leaving the door open behind him.

"Hello, Macca." Yuuri coos, touching noses with the poodle. "God, your breath smells."

"You know his name." Victor notices and Yuuri's head shifts, his gaze finding his eyes.

"Yeah." He admits, his voice distant. "We… spend a lot of time together. Although, he's not my dog. He belongs to…"

He trails off with a frown, clearly not knowing the name that should follow.

"You don't remember the owner?" Victor asks simply.

"No." Yuuri sighs, his hands falling onto the bed in dejection. "There's like this… gap in my memories."

"Do you know why that is?" Victor follows up, watching as the dog tries to sneak his head under Yuuri's palm once more.

"…It's not a hangover, is it?" Yuuri asks, but it's more of a statement, like he's already reached that conclusion on his own and now only wants to hear it confirmed.

"No." Victor confirms.

"It doesn't feel like one." Yuuri agrees. "The pain's different. And I'm missing more memories than just last night. And then there's this."

Yuuri raises his right hand high in the air, his eyes fixed on the gold ring.

"Do you also have one?" he asks his hand more than he asks Victor, but he soon turns his eyes to him and it becomes apparent that he expects an answer.

"Yeah." Victor admits, showing him his open palm.

"Can you come closer?" Yuuri requests, squinting. "I can't find my glasses and I'd like to see it."

"They got left behind at the rink." Victor explains as he steps closer. "Sorry about that."

"At the rink?" Yuuri ponders, blinking a few times, before slowly shaking his head in dismissal. He turns to his side as he reaches for Victor's hand, causing Maccachin to slide off his body and onto the bed. He lays down quietly, resting his head in his paws, as though he knows that his owners are discussing important matters and playtime is over for the moment.

Yuuri gently gets ahold of Victor's wrist once he approaches him and places his hand beside his, his eyes darting from one ring to the other. "They're identical." He finally says and releases his hand.

"They are." Victor nods.

"Well, at least that seems to be related to the photo." Yuuri motions to their large wedding print with his head.

"So you've seen that, too." Victor acknowledges.

"Yes." Yuuri nods weakly. "Could you please explain what's going on?"

"I can." Victor offers. "But why not ask your family instead?"

"You've been crying, you're wearing an identical golden ring and you're the person that appears beside me on a photo that looks very much like one from a wedding." Yuuri lists the facts that he's already connected in his head but can't quite make sense of the whole they're forming. "I have a feeling you're closer to the entire situation. I just… I want to hear it from you first."

Victor bites his lip on the mention of his crying. Yuuri noticed. Victor was certain that the few tears that spilled from his eyes weren't enough to make the fact visible, but now he stands corrected. Even if his eyelids aren't swollen, his cheeks are neither flushed nor wet, Yuuri knows. Yuuri has enough experience in crying to know. The thought only works to sadden Victor further.

"Can I sit?" he asks softly, gesturing at the bed.

"Yeah." Yuuri scoots to the side despite there being a large enough area for Victor to sit already. Victor can't even blame him for wanting some distance between them, it's simply that the reminder isn't particularly pleasant.

"You're awfully trusting of someone you supposedly don't know." He mumbles under his breath, his bitterness demanding to be expressed.

" _Supposedly_." Yuuri sighs emphatically. "I have a feeling that the supposition is wrong. I just want to understand why. Besides… If you wanted to hurt me, you would have already done so. Just this once, I'll take the risk."

Glancing at his hand, Victor notices that Yuuri holds his phone in his grip, most likely ready to act should anything go wrong. But he feels it's fair, and Yuuri deserves at least that much comfort.

Victor tells him the basics – the coach part, the all too obvious reason for the rings and the wedding photo and progressively, Yuuri's grip loosens, until he completely releases the phone and tucks his hand under his head as he listens to Victor. He also repeats some of the questions from the hospital – which competitions did you take part in, who was your coach, who won the last world championships. Yuuri knows the answer to the first one, isn't certain of the second one and expresses his cluelessness to the last one. All of this confirms Victor's suspicions, but considering that Yuuri has not yet run away or called the police, he figures he must believe him.

A frown grows on Yuuri's lips by the time he poses the major question. "So why don't I remember any of this?" Victor knows that frown too well.

He tells him about the ice and the fall, and the doctor's diagnosis. Hesitantly, he tells him that this is the second time he had forgotten him in the span of two days. He speaks with more confidence when he tells him that he doesn't blame him and that he can give him all the time and space he needs to think things over.

"It's fine." Once more, he stares at the ceiling listlessly, his behavior contradicting his words. "There's not much to think about anyway."

The quiet falls upon the room like a veil, interrupted only by their breaths – out of sync and with varying depths. Victor half-expects Yuuri to say something, but after what feels like a painfully long minute, he can no longer stand the silent tension.

"Do you… do you want to remember?" he begins, not quite certain what he's trying to say and what he wants to achieve.

"Is it possible for me to remember?" Yuuri blinks, his eyes seeking Victor's.

"Yeah, I've seen it myself, last night." Victor nods.

"Then yes." Yuuri affirms simply.

It takes Victor a moment to process the answer. "Really?"

"If at any point in time I had a husband who was also apparently a good coach and we had a dog and our own apartment together then God, even if this is some sort of elaborate lie, I want to live in that reality." He confesses, deadpan, his gaze travelling to Maccachin, a tiny smile on his lips. "I want it to be true."

"It _is_ true." Victor insists with a quiet chuckle.

"Then I want to remember." Yuuri repeats, locking gazes with Victor. "I will. I'll do my best."

"Okay." Victor smiles and with that gesture alone, he feels like a part of the weight on his chest is lifted. Yuuri still wants him. That's the best news he's gotten today.

"So uh…" Yuuri begins. "Could you remind me what your name is?"

And this hurts a little, another stab with a thick needle at Victor's heart. But he smiles. "Victor."

"Victor." Yuuri pronounces softly, as though checking the taste of the name on his tongue. He quirks his lips lightly and extends his hand to shake Victor's. "Hi, Victor."

It's perfectly awkward and Victor can't help laughing as he catches his husband's hand and shakes it gently. "Hello, Yuuri."

They watch each other for a brief moment before Victor offers to make breakfast, to which Yuuri replies with a nod.

But as Victor heads for the door, Yuuri seems to gather the courage to share a part of his thoughts with him. "Victor, can I show you something?"

"Sure?" Victor raises his eyebrows and returns to the bed.

"Earlier, when you left the room," he begins, fiddling with his phone, unlocking the screen and flicking his fingers across it. "I decided to check my Instagram and I found this picture of Phichit's profile."

He raises his phone to Victor's eyes, and steadying Yuuri's hand, he looks at the screen. It's a photo of Phichit's laptop screen, or more specifically, of his Skype conversation with Yuuri, the webcam image in which Yuuri has his head turned as he kisses Victor on the lips, open wide on his screen. He remembers the picture, it was taken not two weeks ago, and uploaded with both of their permissions. They both found the caption amusing at the time.

_Tfw ur trying to catch up on ur bff's life but also have a clingy husband_

"I also read the comments." Yuuri adds and Victor remembers them even without Yuuri scrolling down to show them.

_**Yuri-katsuki:** _ _Guilty as charged ^^;  
_ _**victor-nikiforov:** _ _I'm the husband :D_

The rest are mostly hearts and excited emojis from the fans of all three of them.

"And?" Victor asks, wondering where Yuuri is going with this.

"And, well, it makes much more sense now. I didn't know what to think at first because if we're really so close the how do I have no memory of you, but then, I don't know…" he sighs and stare wall in thought. "Like, I felt something. Like this was the life I wanted but never got to have. Well, except that apparently I _did_ get to have it. And I wanted to be that guy in the picture because he's clearly happy and loved and satisfied. I mean, it _is_ me, I guess, but what I'm trying to say is… I don't actually know what I want to say. It's a good picture. It helped me calm down and think rationally and hear you out. So, uh… thanks for kissing me while I was Skyping, I guess?"

Victor can't help giggling lightly against himself. "You are more than welcome, Yuuri."

Yuuri replies with a soft smile and a nod.

"Don't forget to thank Phichit as well." Victor reminds him.

"I will." Yuuri promises before freezing. "Wait. Did we tell anyone about my… condition, yet?"

Victor blinks. "We haven't, actually. I think your sister knows, since you called her yesterday but she's family so that's fine. I guess we were hoping that your memories can come back and we don't have to cause a stir in the figure skating world and worry others while we're at it."

"You're right. If we told anyone else there's no doubt that this would get to the press." Yuuri admits. Figure skating may be a small niche in the world of sport, but the media that do cover it reach a large enough audience to cause problems. "Let's just hope I'll go back to normal soon enough."

Victor bites his lip. If the doctor is right, Yuuri may never return to how he used to be before. But he can't tell him that; killing his morale so soon would help them in exactly zero ways. So he smiles tentatively instead. "Yeah, let's hope."

And yet despite the knowledge, he _does_ have hope. Because if Yuuri could remember once, who was to say that he couldn't do it twice? Perhaps he could, eventually, remember everything with just a single photo, maybe a single phrase.

Victor thought it would be ideal if he could simply stop forgetting.

The hope was faint but that didn't stop him from grasping it with all he had.

* * *

 "Victor, where's the leash?" Yuuri calls from the entryway, his eyes running up and down the shelves in the closet by the exist.

"We don't need one." Victor chuckles, fixing his hair in the mirror. "Maccachin is a good boy, he knows to stay by your side during a walk."

"But what will we tie him up with when we get there?" Yuuri questions with a sigh.

"You want to _tie_ him up somewhere?" Victor all but gasps, only half joking. "No, he's perfectly fine without that. He'll just wait for us outside."

"Are you sure?" Yuuri's brows furrow.

"Yuuri, I've had him for like fourteen years now. I think I know how to take care of him." Victor argues with a somewhat irritated smile.

"Well, if you say so." Yuuri shrugs, abandoning his search and kneeling by the dog to pat him on the head. "Fourteen years? You really are an old puppy."

The two of them are getting ready to head to the ice rink, their banter reminiscent of simpler times.

During breakfast, they had decided to go to the rink to retrieve Yuuri's glasses, Victor's phone and their skates, all left there the previous day as they rushed to the hospital. Yuuri expressed that he may remember something of their relationship if he approaches the ice, since according to Victor's explanation, skating had always been important to the development of their bonds. Victor went along with it, having no other plans for the day, given that they couldn't return to their usual practice and he couldn't simply sit at home either. He needed exercise to cope with his feelings and a walk felt like just the right thing to do. A walk with Yuuri could even prove useful to reestablishing their relationship.

So a walk to the rink it is.

The facility is not particularly far, but it's not close either.

Victor has always thought it was perfect for morning jogs – a little under half an hour if he ran, a little over half an hour if he walked. It was a great warm up before he stepped on the ice.

Now, they're walking leisurely, hands naturally swinging by their sides, Victor's hand a little too cold for his liking. But he dares not catch Yuuri's hand in his own, tucks his palms in his pockets instead. It's better that way, he tells himself, rushing won't help them in any way.

He sparks up a conversation about St. Petersburg instead, asking Yuuri how much he knows about the city, how much he's seen. And as luck would have it Yuuri remembers everything Victor had shown him, with the exception of his company at all the locations he lists. This hardly eases the tightness in Victor's chest but he smiles and they share their favorite aspects of the city. It makes him feel a little better, simply chatting with Yuuri, seeing his small smile as he talks about his favorite hang-out spots.

As they cross the bridge, Yuuri begins to ask questions about their past. But it's not about the general overview, but rather about the finer details – their habits, their daily routine, their training regimen, and a little quieter about their usual endearments. Sharing their past with Yuuri actually brings a smile to Victor's face. Because this isn't so bad. Because Yuuri wants to know what they were like. Because Yuuri, too, wants to return to those better days, even if it will take him longer to ease himself back into how things were.

Victor enthusiastically tells him all he wants to know and more, each step bringing them closer to the rink, each step bringing them closer to everything they had.

* * *

 "Damn." Victor sighs as he presses the home button on his phone and the screen doesn't light up. "Battery's dead."

But Yuuri is hardly listening to him, rather slightly leaning over the barrier, taking in the vast rink with eyes wide open and a mouth slightly agape.

"I'll be right back." Yuuri calls, already tearing off his sneakers and reaching for his skates.

"Yuuri, no." Victor shakes his head sternly. "You're still recovering from the accident."

"My head feels fine though." Yuuri argues. "I mean, I think you're being reasonable here and normally I'd agree with you but… I don't know, I feel like I _really_ want to skate a little right now."

"Yuuri but I told you how you got your head injury in the first place." Victor sighs. "Do you really think this is a good idea?"

"Maybe not." Yuuri shrugs. "But I felt like skating was not a good idea at least half the times when I picked my skates up, and yet that brought me here. So maybe it'll be fine?"

"Fine." Victor pronounces on an exhale. This isn't Yuuri's first time on the ice – he knows how to fall to keep his head and limbs safe. He never suffered any major injuries despite having somewhat of a history of failed jumps. Well, never until now. But Victor knows it was only because of the unfamiliar circumstances, that otherwise Yuuri can take care of himself. There's no real reason to keep him off the ice apart from Victor's paranoia. But he may know a solution to that. "But if I can't stop you then at least let me join you."

"You're more than welcome to." Yuuri smiles lightly. "The rink is large enough for the both of us."

Victor smiles, thinking that the phrase is an apt description of their careers ever since Victor returned to skating a few months back.

Because Yuuri is a worthy rival and an even better partner, both in exhibitions and in life.

* * *

 "So, do you remember any of your programs?" Victor wonders, standing by the side of the rink, watching Yuuri skate in large circles around the ice in warm up.

"A few of them." Yuuri admits. "Though I'm not sure how many I'd be able to skate fully."

"How about your most recent short program?" Victor muses.

"Sure." Yuuri hums, skating to the middle of the rink and getting in position for _On Love: Eros_.

He flawlessly performs a good thirty seconds of the seductive program before Victor stops him with a light smile and a small applause.

"Do you know who choreographed it?" he proceeds to ask.

Yuuri blinks for a moment. "Cele- No, wait, don't tell me it was you?"

"Yep." Victor nods. "Your free skate, too."

"I recall that one, too." Yuuri notes.

"Any other ones?" Victor wonders, casually stretching his arms out on the barrier.

"Well, there's this, though I can't remember where it's from." Yuuri announces as he skates to the middle of the rink once more.

Victor holds his breath when Yuuri crosses his legs, closes his eyes and lowers his head, only to raise it the next instant, his arm giving him the momentum for a small spin. Soon, his hand guides him forward before a quick turn, a cross of the arms that escalates to one of his hands flying above his head and being lowered to head level as he all but kneels on the ice. Victor's heart is beating slowly, but hard. It's essentially identical to his reaction when he first saw Yuuri skating the program – way back in March of the previous year on his couch in his apartment. It's Stammi Vicino, it's _their song_ , it's the program with which Yuuri once more invited Victor to Hasetsu – this time successfully.

And Victor wonders if perhaps, _perhaps_ Yuuri's body remembers the duet version of the same piece.

Just like that time last March, he decides to take the risk.

When the time comes, he skates up to Yuuri and his husband easily captures his hand in his own, everything according to Victor's meticulous choreography. Victor can't help the idiotic grin on his lips and he can see there's a light smile on Yuuri's as well. Everything is just about as perfect as when they had performed the program during the Grand Prix Final.

And then the first lift comes.

Victor stops short, breaking their pace and Yuuri loses his balance. In sudden panic, Victor grabs him by the waist and keeps him stable, narrowly avoiding a fall for the both of them, despite shaking on his own legs.

Yuuri, who in the process ended up falling face-first on his chest, rests his hands loosely on Victor's hips and quietly chuckles into Victor's shoulder as the latter exhales in relief. "This reminds me of our wedding."

Victor needs a moment to remember which part of the wedding he means exactly, but once he does, he quickly becomes aware of one more thing. "You remember our wedding?!"

"I just remembered this part." Yuuri explains as Victor's arms tighten around him and he places his chin on his shoulder, his hands on his husband's back. "You know when we got our marriage certificate in Saga's register office and we were walking out of the room to meet my family and the rest of the guests? And when I tripped on a bump in the carpet, right in front of everyone but you were quick and you caught me by the waist, lifted me and spun around briefly? And everyone thought that it was because we were so happy to be married when in reality you just saved me from a pretty unfortunate fall?"

"Well, we _were_ so happy to be married." Victor corrects with a chuckle.

"We were, but that wasn't why you lifted me then." Yuuri replies with a smile. "But yeah, I remembered that."

"So you remember our wedding?" Victor pulls away to look at Yuuri's face in anticipation.

"Bits and pieces." Yuuri nods. "I definitely remember getting married to you. And that's a pretty big thing so."

"Yeah." The corners of Victor's lips rising amicably.

Yuuri reciprocates the act, his own smile warm and affectionate, all but loving. Victor lost count of how many times Yuuri looked at him like this. And perhaps it's out of habit, or perhaps out of a ridiculous amount of hope, Victor closes his eyes and leans in, hoping to feel Yuuri's lips on his own the way he had so many times in the past.

He ends up feeling the fabric of Yuuri's shirt as he pulls him into a hug instead. "Sorry, Victor. I know that I just said that I remember but… please give me some more time, okay? I can't switch back to the Yuuri you know so quickly."

"Okay, Yuuri." Victor sighs, disappointment and sympathy mixing in his voice. "Take all the time you need. I'll wait. Just tell me when you're ready."

"I will." Yuuri squeezes him tighter in his embrace. "Thanks."

Victor holds him closer, too, hoping that Yuuri can feel his love and respect for him stronger than he can feel his impatience.

"And don't worry." Yuuri adds. "I'll shower you with kisses the way I always had soon enough."

Victor can't help wondering how much of this is true and how much is their wishful thinking. The thought stings in his chest a little.

"Because… I used to shower you with kisses, right?" Yuuri asks hesitantly, clearly hoping that he hadn't said anything uncharacteristic of him, that his assumption wasn't greatly wrong.

Victor can't help the giggle pressing at his lips. "You did, Yuuri. And it's okay. When you feel like it again, I'll gladly accept that shower."

And Victor's dark thoughts are dispersed and once more he feels hopeful.

And he realizes that was usually how his relationships with Yuuri looked:

When he felt hopeless, it was Yuuri who gave him hope to keep going.

Even now, as they stand embracing on the ice, Yuuri recovering only a small part of his memories of Victor, this one truth remains unchanged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, remember how I said that I wouldn't make you wait 5 weeks for the next chapter? I made you wait only 4 week so I guess that's a liiitle better. :')
> 
> And now to the point: I am right now in what can be best described as the biggest writing slump I've ever experienced.
> 
> What that means is that I can't find the motivation to write, and when I do, it's just a few paragraphs before I get stuck and switch to doing something else. And that's another thing - getting distracted. Whenever I write, I write a bit and then I get distracted by YouTube videos or checking something on Tumblr, or playing a video game or watching an anime or like literally anything. I find it very difficult to focus on one thing and I don't know where this comes from but continuously writing for more than half an hour has become just about impossible to me. I'm thinking that maybe it's because I fell out of my routine? I had this routine where I had a few hours a day dedicated specifically to writing and that would be what I focus on and that was when I got the bulk of my writing done. But recently I've disrupted it by hanging out with friends or playing a video game or doing homework at those specific times and so my writing habit crumbled. I was thinking that maybe I was getting a little burnt out - I've never written that often for such a long period of time before (before this weird slump I wrote for a few hours everyday, but even before then I could only really write on Fridays and Saturdays due to school), so I decided to take a break. I took about a week off from writing and that alone made me feel terrible because I wanted to deliver a new chapter to you guys as fast as possible and breaks certainly don't help with that. So I got off my break, hoping that this newly found motivation will help me update quickly, but then a lot of real life work took up my time and in the end I missed a good 2 weeks of writing. Recently, I liked to binge write - simply write a lot of the new chapter over a short period of time, usually like 70% of the thing over the period of one or two days but I've been too busy to do that and when I wasn't - I couldn't find the motivation. I did manage to complete this chapter in the end, but if you're wondering why it took so long, it's precisely because of how often I get distracted and how often I just can't bring myself to write.
> 
> I don't know what's wrong with me or how to fix it, but right now I'm home for Easter break and I'll do my best to get back into my routine, and effectively back into writing. This story isn't even past its midpoint (I said it's a slow burn ;D) and I'm going to finish it, even if it takes me a few months to do so. I definitely want to finish it, I want to share it with you guys in all its glory, so I'll work my hardest! Hope you guys are willing to tune in for the long ride. :') If you have any advice regarding helping me find motivation and helping me stay focused then I'll gladly take it!
> 
> And if you have any feedback or any thoughts&feels regarding the story, I'd love to hear them as well. :D
> 
> This has been an incredibly long explanation but thanks for reading and hope you have a great... 4 weeks? xD Anyway, I hope to see you guys soon~!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's almost 5 am, I'm too tired to write anything coherent in the notes section, but basically the two main points are:
> 
> Yes, I'm still alive.  
> Yes, I'm still writing this, and I won't give up until I finish this story. xD
> 
> I'll write a more complex explanation when I wake up, so see you then. :)
> 
> For now, thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy!

"What do you want to do about lunch?" Victor asks, briefly closing his eyes and basking in the warm-ish April rays. He's holding his skates in one hand, the other palm stroking Maccachin's head.

"Uh, cook, I suppose?" Yuuri suggests, putting on the jacket that had been previously left at the rink. "That's what we usually do, isn't it?"

"We can go out if you want." Victor offers, turning to him with a smile and a glint of excitement in his eyes. "There are a few nice restaurants nearby."

"Just nothing too fancy, please." Yuuri smiles nervously. "I feel terrible spending a lot of money on food."

"You deserve the best though, Yuuri." Victor argues with a chuckle. "And I can pay."

"I'm sure you can." Yuuri agrees. "But I don't feel good knowing you're paying a lot for me. I'm fine with simple food."

"Alright then." Victor nods. "What sort of simple food do you want?"

"You can choose, I don't really mind." Yuuri insists.

"How about Chinese food then?" Victor suggests.

"Sounds good to me." Yuuri nods with a light smile. "Eat in or takeaway?"

"You decide." Victor hums.

"Then eat in." Yuuri chooses.

"Very well." Victor smiles and reaches for Yuuri's hand to pull him along in the direction of the restaurant. When his fingers touch Yuuri's and the latter makes no further move to hold his palm, Victor only gently moves his hand to lead him by the waist. Yuuri blinks at him for a moment before laying his own hand on the man's back and walking forward alongside him, the corners of his lips rising slightly.

Victor chuckles.

This really isn't half bad.

* * *

As they settle in their chairs a young waiter brings them two menus. The place isn't too fancy, just like Yuuri requested, but it's not the one of the shady, dingy places that they both quite frankly prefer to avoid. When Yuuri glances at the menu and smiles, Victor knows he approves of the prices.

Once they order, Yuuri glances at his phone briefly before placing his elbow on the table and resting his chin on his palm.

"I've been thinking," He begins, his eyes set on Victor but his gaze pensive so that he's hardly looking at him at all. "I should probably get back to practice soon."

"It's the off season though." Victor knits his eyebrows.

"Well, yes." Yuuri agrees with a sigh. "But what I mean is that I can't let the accident affect my life; I need to follow my usual daily routine, do everything as planned. Today we realized that I can skate just fine so I don't think there's anything holding me back."

"What about the risk of repeated injury? What if something were to happen again? The consequences could be much worse." Victor voices his genuine fears.

"You have a point." Yuuri admits with a wince. "But I've never gotten seriously injured before. I'm not expecting any particularly bad falls now either."

"Accidents are things you usually don't expect." Victor flashes him a sad smile. "But if you really want to then I won't stop you. I trust you to know your own body.

"If you think it's too dangerous then I won't insist. I don't want to make my coach-" he ponders the words for a moment. "my husband worry. But at the very least I want to be able to jog every day."

"Well, I think you could do the basic training at the very least. No jumps for now though, alright? Just step sequences and other elements. And I'm saying this as your coach." Victor attempts to act stern but soon his façade falls away with a chuckle and a smile. "And you're free to jog anytime as long as you take Maccachin with you sometimes. Old boy still needs exercise."

Victor pats the head of the pooch curled up under the table. He's not sure if they usually allow pets but he knows that his smile and a few kind words can work miracles. Maccachin is well-mannered anyway so he knows he's not running any risks of falling out of favor with the staff of the establishment.

"Fine by me." Yuuri smiles softly. "And I'm saying this as your husband."

Victor tilts his head to the side and smiles in confusion for a moment before Yuuri giggles and explains: "I just wanted to say that."

Victor laughs alongside him for a brief moment. "Are you getting used to the idea then?"

"Well, I'm doing my best." Yuuri sighs before attempting a more convincing smile. "It's weird not to remember most of our history but… the parts I do remember are really nice, and I think I can see why we ended up like this. I mean, I can't really because you're… wow, and I'm me, but at the very least I'm beginning to understand how I feel about you and how it came about."

Victor is overjoyed at Yuuri's last sentence but something else catches his attention and doesn't allow him to express his joy just yet. "What do you mean I'm 'wow'? You're way more wow than me."

"No way." Yuuri laughs. "Don't say that, it's not funny."

Victor spares him the comment on his very unhidden laughing at his alleged unfunniness and takes the genuine approach instead. "But I mean it. You have a supportive family and loving friends and incredible potential which you fulfill more and more every day. You're really skilled on your own, but in areas where you're not so great, you make up for it with hard work. You've faced way more adversities than I ever did and came out victorious regardless. You've fought your way tooth and nail to where you are now. And that's nothing if not amazing." Victor explains before lowering his voice and leaning closer. "Also you're really beautiful. Which is a nice bonus."

"You're exaggerating." Yuuri argues and shakes his head with a ginger smile. "That's what all figure skaters do."

"Not really. And even if, no one does it like you." Victor all but winks alongside the shower of compliments.

"Now that's just sappy." Yuuri chuckles. "But… I appreciate it."

"I'm only telling the truth." Victor shrugs dramatically.

"I'd love to praise you too, but…" Yuuri sighs and points at his head emphatically. "Still, I have the feeling you're even more amazing than I am."

"Nah, I'm pretty sure you're more amazing." Victor insists sweetly and can almost hear the gagging noise that Yurio would make if he were in their vicinity at the moment. "But we can both be amazing in our own ways!"

"Well, yes." Yuuri agrees. "Though I don't think I'm quite 'five time champion of the Grand Prix Final and the Worlds' kind of amazing."

"Not that kind of amazing, no." Victor admits. "But I think you're more than that." Victor pauses for a moment and blinks. "Wait, did I tell you about my skating achievements?"

"You did. Probably like twice." Yuuri shakes his head, half of his lightly flushed face covered with his hand. "But enough of the compliments. It's awkward when I can't say anything back."

"You don't need to." Victor grins. "I just like letting you know how much I appreciate you."

"Well, I appreciate it." Yuuri nods with a tender smile. "Still, I'd like to stay in shape in the off-season."

Victor blinks, suddenly realizing what Yuuri wasn't saying. "Is that what this is about?"

"What do you mean?" Yuuri knits his brows in confusion.

"Are you self-conscious about your body?" Victor asks quietly.

"I mean… kind of…?" Yuuri sighs and quirks his lips, his gaze running over the wall behind Victor's head.

"Just so you know, I really don't mind." Victor assures. "You're beautiful one way or another."

"Thanks." Yuuri blinks, somehow taken off-guard by the compliment "But I also want to stay fit for myself. Gaining weight reminds me of… worse times."

"…Like the previous year's skating season?" seeing Yuuri flinch and widen his eyes makes Victor wonder whether he should really continue with this particular topic.

"Were you there?" Yuuri asks, although Victor has a feeling that he already knows the answer.

"Yeah, pretty much." Victor shrugs. He was there at the Grand Prix Final with Yuuri and he travelled to Hasetsu as soon as the season was over. Yuuri filled him in on what he did and what happened to him in between the two events.

"Listen, I just…" Yuuri fumbles with his hands on the table and focuses his gaze on his fingers. "Gaining weight reminds me of the time when I lost all motivation, was seriously considering quitting and was most likely depressed. I'm happy that you don't mind but I worry that if I let myself gain weight then I'll slip back into that mindset. And staying fit in the off-season will help me get back in full form faster once the new season starts. That's a good thing, right?"

Victor knows that he's staring, his mouth slightly agape before he can put his thoughts into words. "You never told me that. I mean, I agree that staying in shape is a good thing and I noticed that you kept working out even after the season was over but you never told me why."

"I didn't?" Yuuri bites his lip. "But does it really matter?"

"Well, no." Victor admits. "I just didn't know that having a tummy made you feel so bad."

"I mean it's not like I can't live with it." Yuuri rolls his eyes lightly. "But, you know, it's easier to stay fit rather than gaining weight and then having to lose it. The psychological effect is just a side thing, but if I can avoid it, then why not?"

"Well, I agree." Victor nods, before smiling. "And if that's what you want then I agree even more."

"Thanks." Yuuri smiles lightly before hesitating. "And, uh… If you want to join me on my morning jogs then… you're more than welcome to?"

"Really?" Victor perks up in excitement.

"That's what husbands do, right?" Yuuri laughs nervously. "I don't really know, I'm new to this."

Yuuri mouths the word: "Help." And Victor can't help giggling which sends Yuuri into a brief fit of laughter as well.

"I mean it though." Yuuri assures with a calmer, more confident smile. "I want to spend more time with you. I like you. I mean, I guess that's sort of obvious since I wouldn't have married you otherwise. But even now, when I don't remember that much about you, I do like you. So there's that."

Victor can feel the tears welling in his eyes before he can help it and he covers his mouth with his palm before releasing a muffled, high-pitched: "You like me."

"Yeah." Yuuri smiles. He bites his lip lightly, reaches over and captures the hand that Victor was resting on the surface of the table with his own. "I do."

Yuuri gently holds his fingers and runs his thumb over his knuckles and down the digits, softly, as though he's unsure of whether or not he should, despite clearly wanting to. Victor swallows a sob, blinks away the tears and squeezes Yuuri's fingers with a nod. "I like you, too." He pronounces, his voice higher than usual, still soaked through with emotions.

Yuuri's face lights up with a large smile upon hearing the words. "Thanks."

And Victor quickly remembers that before him, Yuuri had never been in a relationship, but must have always wanted one, and this must be the first time when his feelings are properly requited and he suddenly feels like crying again.

He instead sniffles, shakes his head and squeezes Yuuri's hand a little tighter. He rejoices when Yuuri nods lightly with his bright smile and turns his gaze to their joined hands and replies the gesture. The corners of Victor's lips rise, he raises his eyes and just as his gaze meets Yuuri's the waiter places their orders on the table.

Yuuri chuckles lightly, but doesn't let go. They remain watching each other for a longer while after the waiter makes his way back to the kitchen without a word, holding his breath so as not to disturb their moment.

Only after a little time passes Yuuri looks at the dish in front of him and suggests. "We should probably eat before it gets cold."

"Yeah." Victor agrees with a sigh. "Let's."

The tips of their fingers share a lingering touch before they finally reach for their chopsticks.

Victor decides that this is far from bad.

* * *

By the time they finish their meals, Maccachin is begging for food and the two slip him some leftover meat from their plates before paying the check and leaving.

Victor is giddy on his feet as he waits for Yuuri to button up his coat. He hums a happy tune quietly and twirls in place as they begin the walk home.

"Hey, Yuuri, wanna jog?" Victor suggests, finding a great outlet for his excess energy.

"Right now?" Yuuri winces. "We just ate."

"We'll be fine, I'm not about to go on a marathon." Victor waves his hand dismissively. "What do you say?"

"You'll get the side stitch." Yuuri warns but he's chuckling and lightly stretching his arms already.

"If we go easy we'll be fine." Victor assures.

"Okay, but why right now?" Yuuri stops and asks, genuinely curious. "I thought we'd go tomorrow morning."

"I'm just really excited." Victor explains while hopping in place, further proving his statement. "Because you remember something about me and you like me and it's been a surprisingly good second half of the day. I'm… happy."

Yuuri scrutinizes him for a moment before his face lights up with an amicable smile. Victor figures the happiness must be infectious when his husband nods. "Okay, I'll run with you."

"Yes." Victor fist pumps the air. "Just for a little while then, alright?"

"Sure. But it's not a race, yeah?" Yuuri wants to be clear.

"Not a race." Victor assures, his open palms raised.

"Alright, then let's go." He calls as he gently takes off forward, Maccachin following suit, running up a few steps behind him.

"I said it's not a race." Victor laughs as he rushes forward to catch up.

"I'm not racing though." Yuuri replies with a smile. "Just setting the pace."

"Fair enough." Victor chuckles, evading a trash can in front of him.

They jog a few hundred meters, their eyes glancing from each other to the pavement in front of them, the occasional laugh spilling from their upturned lips, until Victor doubles over and asks for a break with a groan.

"What's wrong?" Yuuri's brows furrow in clear concern.

"Side stitch." Victor sighs, holding his waist and supporting himself on the wall of a nearby building. "Guess you were right."

"It sucks to be right sometimes." He winces. "Just breathe, alright? Take it easy."

"I am. Just give me a moment." Victor chuckles. "Unless you want to carry me?"

"I mean, I probably could." Yuuri ponders out loud, before shaking his head with a sheepish smile. "Hypothetically."

"Wait, could you?" Victor asks with interest.

Yuuri's smile turns nervous. "Hypothetically."

"Could you try? Now I'm really curious." Victor quickly perks up.

"Uh, yeah, I guess." Yuuri shrugs. "Just don't expect too much, alright?"

Victor smiles, knowing Yuuri's 'don't expect too much' all too well. "Sure."

"Alright." Yuuri exhales, extending his arms towards Victor. "Grab onto my shoulder."

Victor complies and before he can notice, he's up in Yuuri's arms. He blinks at his husband in surprise, becoming aware of the position he's in. "Bridal style?"

"That's no good, is it?" Yuuri bites his lip, averting his eyes. "I should have just gone for piggyback."

"No." Victor smiles and nestles his head against Yuuri's shoulder. "This is great."

"Oh, thank God." Yuuri sighs with clear relief. "I just figured this would be the most effective way of going about it."

"It is." Victor smiles, feeling each of Yuuri's slower steps and glancing around the few people out on the street and Maccachin walking beside them. "Man, why didn't we do this at our wedding?"

"Because I wanted to keep things simple?" Yuuri suggests with a wince. "That's what I'm assuming at least. Like, don't get me wrong, carrying you is great and all, but it just seems a bit… extra."

"When do we get to be extra if not at our wedding?" Victor laughs. "Now's any different?"

"I mean, it's still sort of embarrassing." Yuuri admits, and Victor can't help remembering that Yuuri is only alright with certain types of PDA, and carrying is something they never discussed. "But it's a little easier when it's among strangers. Like, even if someone is judging me, I'll never know about it and it won't affect me in any way. It's different with friends and family."

"Your friends and family would never judge you." Victor assures. "They were just as ecstatic about the whole thing as we were."

"Maybe." Yuuri shrugs lightly, Victor's weight keeping his shoulders down. "But it's still Japan. You're only supposed to be extra to specific, socially accepted degrees in Japan."

"What's the point of being extra if it's all socially accepted." Victor pouts. "But you know, I'm fine with whatever sits well with you."

"Thanks." Yuuri smiles with a brief but tender glance at his husband. "This is actually… surprisingly nice."

Victor agrees, his back supported by one of Yuuri's arms, his thighs by the other. One of his hands is wrapped around Yuuri's back in an attempt to reduce the pressure on his arms. He figured this would be more awkward considering his height, especially when compared to Yuuri's, but he finds it unexpectedly comfortable, and really quite relaxing. He certainly wouldn't mind being carried more often.

Just as the thought crosses his mind, Yuuri comes to a grinding halt and he groans, his arms shaking as he does his best to keep Victor from falling. Before Victor has a chance to ask what's wrong, Yuuri explains: "Side stitch."

Victor slips out of his hold and easily lands on the pavement, both feet finding their way to the ground safely. He pulls one of Yuuri's arms over his back, allowing him to lean on him.

"Do you want me to carry you now?" Victor asks softly, genuinely.

"Let's just sit down." Yuuri winces, motioning his head to a nearby bench.

Victor agrees and they soon find themselves on the wooden bench, their thighs touching as Yuuri takes deep breaths in hopes of ridding himself of the stitch. "I hate being right sometimes."

"That's my bad, it was a stupid idea." Victor apologizes, knowing that Yuuri wouldn't have carried him if it weren't for his request.

"No, it's fine, I knew this was possible." Yuuri assures before chuckling. "Besides, it was kind of fun while it lasted."

"Agreed." Victor smiles. Yuuri turns his head and when their gazes meet they share a brief, lighthearted laugh.

"I never thought I'd be carrying men bridal style halfway across the world from home, but here I am." Yuuri shakes his head.

"Not men. One man." Victor corrects. "And it was your own choice."

"I never said I didn't like it." Yuuri insists, the corners of his lips raised in unhidden elation. "And yeah. One man."

Yuuri's features are so bright with joy that Victor worries that he'll have to avert his eyes from the beautiful spectacle in front of him, lest it might blind him. He quietly rests his hand on his own thigh, hoping Yuuri will get the message.

Yuuri lowers his gaze, blinks. Victor can see him staring at his hand, pressing his lips together in stern consideration as Yuuri wonders whether he's interpreting his husband's signs correctly. Victor hopes he is, because he's spent months tailoring his signs to Yuuri personally. Finally, he raises one of his hands and allows his fingers to rest on Victor's, not quite holding his hand, but not backing off either.

"You don't have to hesitate so much, you know." Victor encourages easily. "I want you to touch me."

"I guess it's different looking from your point of view." Yuuri smiles sadly, averting his gaze. "You wouldn't understand."

Victor sighs lightly, admitting his own mistake. "Then explain it to me. I want to understand."

"Well, look at it from my perspective." Yuuri suggests quietly. "I've been single all my life, not even a trace of romance anywhere, and suddenly I wake up happily married. I know it's the amnesia and it wasn't all that sudden in reality, but, you know… I can't just switch immediately. I still feel completely inexperienced and I have no idea how I'm supposed to act. I don't think I fully understand how relationships work. It's just… a lot."

And Victor realizes that Yuuri is right, that their relationship was a process during which both of them learned what they should and shouldn't do, what love is and how to express it, and how to make it all work, no matter what happens.

With Yuuri's memory of Victor now gone, none of that remains within him. He's groping in the dark, hoping that he's doing everything right, but feeling like he might just be doing it all wrong. How would he know the difference, Victor wonders. Yuuri had never been in a relationship of this kind and Victor becomes aware that he can't blame him for being anxious and uncertain. It's always awkward at first, and that was also the case for them. They did work through it eventually, but none of that matters now. This is simply Yuuri's first all over again. Victor feels like his eyes have finally been opened.

"I never thought of it that way." Victor admits. "But that makes perfect sense. Sorry if I pressured you too much."

"No, it's not your fault." Yuuri shakes his head. "Actually, I like that you're so forward about these things. It makes it easier to imagine what it would be like. I think it helps me get back into the swing of things, even if I don't remember much at all."

"I'm glad you think so." Victor smiles. "But I also think we should take things your pace. We don't need to be just as we used to be immediately, like, that's just unrealistic. Let's only do things that you feel comfortable doing. And don't forget that you can ask me about things. I'll gladly answer."

"You're right." Yuuri nods. "But sometimes I just feel stupid asking. Like it should be obvious or I should already know certain things, you know."

"Don't feel stupid." Victor insists. "I've never ever thought you were stupid. A question or two won't change that."

"Thanks." Yuuri smiles with light relief in his eyes. "So, uh… can we hold hands in public?"

"Do you want to?" Victor wants to be sure.

"Yes." Yuuri nods. "I mean, only if you're okay with it."

"Very okay." Victor grins, extending his hand toward Yuuri in a clear invitation. Yuuri takes it with ease and intertwines their fingers.

"I think I like this." Yuuri's smile widens.

"Good." Victor chuckles. "Now I have a question."

"Yeah?" Yuuri blinks.

"What are we doing about dinner?" Victor deadpans.

"We _just_ ate." Yuuri reminds him.

"I know, but if we want to cook, we'll need the ingredients. Better to buy them on the way back." Victor points out.

"True." Yuuri admits. "Which one of us will cook?"

"Why not both?" Victor suggests with a playful shrug. "We can figure out what we want to make in the store."

Yuuri agrees and they're soon treading down the street, heading for the supermarket located near their apartment, Maccchin walking beside them.

They don't let go of each other's hands until it's time to pay for the groceries.

* * *

After returning home and leaving their groceries on the kitchen table, Victor goes for Maccachin's food bowl to give the pooch a much-desired lunch. He immediately notices that the dog hadn't finished his breakfast, leaving at least a fifth of the portion untouched.

"Macca, why didn't you eat?" he asks, his brow furrowing in concern as he squats by the food.

Victor doesn't expect an answer, but when he reaches out to stroke his head, the poodle turns around and rubs his muzzle against Yuuri's legs.

Victor quickly remembers that morning's circumstances. He smiles. "Were you so excited to comfort Yuuri that you ignored your food?"

Maccachin barks in response and Victor takes it at face value with a chuckle. He knows that the dog probably doesn't understand him, but it's a fair explanation and he's willing to believe it.

"Come now, it's lunch time." Victor announces as he places the food in his bowl before waving his finger. "No skipping meals, understood?"

The dog doesn't much care about Victor's words and quickly gets to his meal, his tail wagging so hard it may just fly off his body.

Both Victor and Yuuri give him one last pat before moving on to making early preparations for their own dinner.

They split up the workload, and while Yuuri takes care of the meat, Victor chops vegetables. He's also responsible for 'deejaying' as he calls putting a CD into the player to make the cooking process at least slightly more exciting. Today, it's a mixtape Phichit made for them, specifically volume 6 out of 10. _It's an extended playlist of international love songs._ He explained when he gifted it to them for Christmas. _The first 5 volumes are the usual cute stuff and the other half have more diverse genres._ By 'cute' Phichit meant 'sappy' but being a huge sap himself, Victor can hardly complain. Before the accident, they used to select a CD at random every few days and listen to it in the mornings and evenings until they finished each part of the playlist. It became a habit for them to prepare for the day or relax in the evenings to the soft tune of whichever songs were playing on that particular day. Considering the sheer length of Phichit's extended playlist, they haven't yet had a chance to get bored of it.

Today, Victor's choice isn't random. Volume 6 consists of classical music and romantic instrumentals – no lyrics whatsoever. He feels that it'll help them relax and won't get in the way of talking.

He turns out to be correct.

When both of them are done with their parts of the meal, Victor sets the oven to preheat. With the corner of his eye and unhidden delight, he notices Yuuri resting his arms on the countertop and swaying to the gentle song.

"You like this piece?" Victor asks, leaning against one of the cupboards.

"Yeah, it's nice." Yuuri offers him a light smile. "It kinda makes you want to dance."

It's a slow song, so Victor thinks he knows exactly what sort of dance Yuuri means.

"Is that an invitation?" Victor teases, brushing his bangs out of his eye.

Yuuri bites his lip before smiling even harder and replying with a coy: "Yes."

Their bodies collide before they can think about the details of the dance and it's not much of a dance after all. It's a tight embrace that turns into a loose hug as the two place their hands on each other's waists, their chins resting on their shoulders, their heads pressed together. It's a messy slow dance in the end, one in which they gently rock to the melody, stepping in place in their spacious kitchen.

It's clear to the both of them that dancing is the last thing they care about right now.

After a longer while, it's Yuuri that disturbs the song with his voice: "Do you think we can ever be the way we used to?"

Victor sighs, holding him closer. "We don't need to be the way we used to be. As long as we can be together, I'll be happy."

"But don't you want the old Yuuri back?" Yuuri argues, his words only slightly muffled by the fabric on Victor's shoulder. "I'm sure it was much better to be married to him."

"You _are_ the old Yuuri. You're the only Yuuri." Victor insists, emotion creeping into his soft voice. "Memory loss or not, you're Yuuri. As long as you want me, I want to stay with you."

"Of course I want you." Yuuri whispers. "I just worry that you'd rather have the Yuuri that I used to be before, not the current, inferior one."

"I've never thought of you as inferior, Yuuri. You just aren't." Victor assures, feeling Yuuri cling to him harder. "I want you. No matter what happens to you, or what you think of yourself, I want it to be you that I spend my life with."

"Okay. I think I needed to hear that." Yuuri sniffles lightly. "I'll do my best to remember more, alright? I want to know how we got here. If I can remember a little every day, then one day I'll remember it all. And everything will be fine then."

Victor suddenly remembers his phone call with the doctor, remembers that Yuuri's memories may reset every morning, that perhaps he won't get a chance to remember a little every day. The thought feels like a slap in the face. He buries it in the crook of Yuuri's neck. "Everything is fine now, too." He assures. "But whatever you choose to do, I'll support you."

"Thanks." Yuuri pronounces with a smile. "You don't know how much I appreciate it."

"And I appreciate your efforts." Victor confesses, pulling away and looking at his husband's slightly reddened, but pleased features. "Together, I'm sure we can make it all work."

And in that moment, Victor truly believes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I'm awake!
> 
> By now, I think I've regained my will to write and am pretty much out of my writing slump, but now my time management is what's been messing me up. :') I go to sleep way too late and end up being tired even during the day and the evening and I've noticed that I just can't write when I'm tired. I've also had an essay deadline and three exams recently, so that successfully prevented me from working too much on my fics. And speaking of that - indeed, fics, plural, because I'm working on another one apart from this one, which is why it takes so long for me to update because I'm essentially writing one or the other, depending on which one I updated most recently. I've also had some other real life stuff going on and it just sort of made my writing process really slow.
> 
> This chapter is shorter than I initially hoped for it to be, but at the same time the next one will probably be longer and MIGHT even be delivered faster, considering that my classes for the semester are done and I have only one more exam to write at the beginning of June, apart from which I'm FREEEEE. But no promises because I'm terrible at keeping them. xD
> 
> Anyway, thank you for sticking around and still reading my very slow updates! I hope that one day we'll all get to see this fic come to an end. :D (Hopefully BEFORE the yoi movie is released. xD)
> 
> As always, your comments are greatly motivating and I appreciate each and every one of them. <3
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope to see you again soon! Hope you have a great time!


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